


Successor

by Sinclaironfire



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Because of Widowmaker, But you can't spell pacifist without fist, Cuddling, Established Genyatta, Everyone has to start somewhere, Fluff, Gay Robots, Genji is a good boyfriend, Genji is dramatic, He also has the style sense of a teenage girl, He's having a bad week, Hurt/Comfort, I'm making shit up about omnics, It Gets Worse, It's a bad time to be an omnic in general, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Mondatta is a good bro, Mondatta's death made everything worse, Nightmares, Omnic Crisis, Omnic Racism, Omnic civil rights movement is suffering, Omnic hate, Omnics, Omnics are attacked, Omnics are killed, Peace be with you, Personal headcanons ahoy, Protective Genji, Shambali monks are trying to keep everything together, Share in the angst, She never misses her target, The Shambali monks need a united front, They need Zenyatta, Things get better I swear, Those two have angst, Tracer has PTSD, Tracer has issues, Tracer has massive guilt, Tracer has regrets, Tracer needs a hug, Tracer regrets King's Row, Winston is a good bro, Zenyatta feels inferior to Mondatta, Zenyatta goes to Shambali, Zenyatta has issues, Zenyatta is Mondatta's problem child, Zenyatta is a pacifist, Zenyatta is her target, Zenyatta is uncomfortable in Shambali, Zenyatta misses Mondatta, Zenyatta needs a hug, Zenyatta wasn't Zen in the beginning, gay boyfriends, minor Lucio/D.Va, minor Reinhardt/Ana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:40:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7723705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinclaironfire/pseuds/Sinclaironfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The death of Tekhartha Mondatta has severe consequences for the world, for the Overwatch team, and for Zenyatta. With omnic hate on the rise, the Shambali monks are desperate for a united front and come to Zenyatta for help.</p><p>Completed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [继承者](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896007) by [daynajade (daynafeng)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daynafeng/pseuds/daynajade), [Dinaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinaria/pseuds/Dinaria)



She couldn’t stop watching the news.

“ _It has been nearly a year since the death of Shambali monk and religious rights leader, Tekhartha Mondatta_.” The brunette reporter, Kim Chang, said solemnly. “ _And the world is still feeling the aftershock_.”

A photo of the deceased monk, moments before his death, popped up on the screen. Tracer heaved a heavy sigh. She was there. She had been right there. And she was powerless to stop it.

“ _King’s Row, once a spot of contention for Omnic civil rights movement has exploded with anti-Omnic rhetoric_.”

The station showed new footage of angry protests of mobs shouting, “ _NOT HUMAN! NO RIGHTS! NOT HUMAN! NO RIGHTS! NOT HUMAN! NO RIGHTS!_ ” Anti-Omnic graffiti was everywhere.

Tracer brought her legs to her chest. It wasn’t like this before. It shouldn’t have happened. She should have saved him.

“ _In London alone_ , _thirty-six Omnics have died from brutal anti-omnic attacks this past year_.” A new photo of memorials for the fallen Omnics was presented onto the screen. Lilies, roses, and candles were at each memorial. “ _Five of those attacks were against Omnic children_.” Stuffed teddy bears and bunnies were at the children’s memorials.

“…children shouldn’t die…” Tracer murmured to herself.

“ _In the face of anti-Omnic threats and brutality, new legislation has been taken abroad to ensure equal rights. In fifteen countries around the world, Omnics now have equal rights as humans_.” She cheerfully reported. “ _A representative from the Shambali monks had this to say about the progress._ ”

It cut to a live feed from Nepal. The screen filled with static but an Omnic monk, named Basho, was dressed in traditional robes, bowed to the camera and said mournfully, “ _Though we are happy to see human and omnic become one, we wish Master Mondatta could be here to see it come to fruition_. _We-_ ”

“ _I’m sorry to cut you off, sir but we have breaking news_.” Reporter Chang hurriedly said, _“A new conflict has broken out in Russia. Omnics are now at war with Russia._ _We will keep you posted as more develops._ ”

The screen showed bombs exploding. People and Omnics alike were dying. Tracer was hypnotized by the violence. Screams from the battlefield filled the darkened meeting room.

She couldn’t stop watching.

It was all her fault.

She should have saved him.

She could still hear the gunshot.

The lights in the meeting room flashed on. Tracer covered her eyes. “Ow!”

“Sorry about that.” Winston said. “I thought Junkrat left the television on again.”

“No, just me.” She sank deeper into her chair and sighed again. She kept watching the news, the violence, and endless deaths that stemmed from one monk’s death.

Winston sat next to her, also sighing, and said, “Lena, you-“

“Can’t blame myself for the assassination of Mondatta.” She recited, sounding like Winston. “I couldn’t have changed it” she mimicked Jack’s voice, I “did my best” she did a damn good Reinhardt impression.

“I see you’ve had this conversation before.” He said, sounding slightly amused.

She cracked a sad smile. “Try a thousand times, luv.” She couldn’t stop watching the news.

“Lena, I know you feel bad about Mondatta but you can’t let it eat away at you. You’ll destroy yourself.”

“Winston, look around!” She pointed accusingly at the television. “Look what’s happened. If I was able to stop Amelie, I-“Tracer stopped herself cold. The woman she once knew as Amelie was gone. Widowmaker had taken her place. It seemed like yesterday that they rescued the woman formerly known as Amelie Lacroix who had been kidnapped by Talon agents. She was, miraculously, unharmed and rescued and Amelie was returned to the loving arms of her husband. While they slept in their martial bed, Amelie with a heart of ice, murder Gerard in cold blood. That began a long career of mayhem and assassination. Mondatta was simply another causality of the ruthless assassin. “She _laughed_ , Winston. I asked her why and she _laughed_. Now the world’s gone to hell. Do you think it’s ever going to get better?”

Winston looked at her. He constructed his thoughts in a very careful manner. He considered each and every possibility of his words and their effect on the distraught agent and then he said without an inkling of doubt, “Yes.”

Tracer huffed. “How?”

“Research.” He said plainly.

“Research?” She parroted.

“Past research has shown that even the most impossible situations are capable of change.”

“Oh yeah?” She said daringly, her mind on Widowmaker. Amelie could never be returned to Overwatch. Not after what Talon had done to brainwash her so well. “Prove it.”

Winston cleared his throat, took a deep breath and pointed at Tracer. “You are proof.”

“What?”

“When the accident with the Slipstream left your molecules desynchronized. Every scientist working at Overwatch at the time thought that your condition was irreversible. They thought that you would be stuck as a living ghost forever. But then yours truly designed the chronal accelerator and now look where you are: a top Overwatch agent.” He said proudly. “And if that’s not enough then I present as my second piece of proof: the Overwatch organization itself. We are living proof that things can get better. I thought that I would never have a family again but I do now. Genji thought that he would never learn to love himself but he does, Jack was disillusioned but he’s working hard to make the world a better place. Things can get better Tracer. I know that it doesn’t seem like it now but it can and it will. As my father told me, never accept the world as it appears to be, dare to see it for what it could be.”

“You think so, luv?”

“Yes. We simply have to keep calm and carry on.”

Tracer snorted and hugged him. “That was bad.”

“I thought it was appropriate.”

She snickered. “It was but thanks, Winston. I feel better already.”

“ _Winston_ ,” Athena came over the intercom system. “ _There is an urgent message coming in from Nepal_.”

“Nepal?” Said Winston, confused at the call.

“Who do you know in Nepal?”

He sputtered and shrugged. “We’ll take it.” He fixed his glasses and cleared his throat.

A Shambali monk, the same one who attempted to give an interview appeared on the screen. “Greetings. I am Basho.” He bowed deeply to Winston and Tracer. Basho had eight blue lights on his forehead. “Am I correct to assume that I am speaking to Overwatch agents?”

“Yes.” Winston said carefully, “How can we be of assistance?”

“Have you been watching the news lately?” The monk asked, as though current turmoil between human and omnic relations was somehow a thing that one could miss.

“We have.” Tracer answered.

“Then you know why I have come to you.”

“We already have agents in Russia containing the violence and trying to end it peacefully.”

“Then you do not know why I have come to you.”

“This isn’t about Russia?” Tracer asked.

“It is and it isn’t.” Replied the monk.

Winston and Tracer shared a long suffering look. She whispered to Winston, “Maybe we should go get Zenyatta.”

“Brother Zenyatta-” The monk nodded, “-is the reason I have come to you.”

“I thought that you wanted to talk about Russia?” Said Tracer, “But you also want to talk to Zenyatta?”

“That is true.”

Tracer nodded encouragingly. “Okay, what do you need to talk to him about? We-“

“I am afraid that this is business that only Shambali monks may discuss.”

Tracer saluted and left Winston alone to make small talk with the monk.

 

It didn’t take Tracer long to find the resident monk. Zenyatta was in his bedroom with the door wide open. Zenyatta made an effort to keep his door open in case anyone wished to speak to him. His room was in every sense of the word, sparse. There was a charging station but that was standard in every room. A single futon in the middle of the floor and three photos were the sum total of his earthly possession. At the top of his futon, the first photo was of the current Overwatch team in a group shot. The second was of his beloved and brightest pupil Genji with Zenyatta giving him little bunny ears as the photo was being taken. The third and final photo was of Mondatta. Unlike the other photos, Mondatta’s picture was impersonal. It was of a press statement relating to his death. The photo looked so tiny in its frame.

Hovering just inches above his bed was Zenyatta.

A low and constant hum was emitted from him. Tracer leaned against the doorway. When Zenyatta or Genji meditated they looked so…peaceful. Like all their troubles were a million miles away. She wished she could achieve that kind of peace. But when it came to meditating, she couldn’t stay in one place long. It was also moments like this, which she could never tell if the monk was awake or asleep when he floated in one place for long. Tracer frowned. If he was sleeping then she didn’t want to wake him but that monk wanted to speak to him. He wasn’t plugged in…so maybe he was awake but-

“What is troubling you?” He turned his head to her.

“N-Nothing much.” She said trying to keep it casual. “There’s a monk from Shambali who wants to talk to you.”

“Shambali?” He hovered closer to her. “Are you…sure?” His voice was strained.

“Yep! Come on.” She grabbed him by his hand and dragged him all the way to the meeting room.


	2. Chapter 2

In the beginning, the monastery was carefully hidden away from prying eyes. The omnics that would become Shambali monks had a small social circle that consisted of other omnics seeking refuge. Few humans from the village ever saw them and even less understood them.

It was to be expected.

After the first Omnic Crisis, no one really knew what to make of the strange omnics who took shelter in the abandoned monastery. They rarely traveled out and when they did, they never spoke to anyone. For the first five years after the crisis, no one saw the mysterious omnics in the monastery. Many in the village below assumed that the omnics had broken down. Then, one spring morning, as the snow started to melt, one by one the omnics came down the mountain. They stood shoulder to shoulder. Each omnic had a minimum of one blue light on his or her forehead.  

“We are the Shambali monks.” The one with ten blue lights on his forehead said. The omnic had a soothing voice, like being wrapped in a warm blanket after a storm. “May peace be with you.”

After the Omnic Crisis, this new breed of omnic, peaceful and introspective, was like a breath of fresh air. The Shambali order was well received in the snowcapped mountains of Nepal. It was there that a future for omnics and humans living together in peaceful harmony became a reality. And it was at the Shambali monastery that Zenyatta found, or rather lost himself.

It was mid-morning. The Shambali monks were gathered at the main temple for meditation. The monks were lined in perfect order except for one empty spot in the farthest corner. Master Mondatta shook his head at the empty spot. Brother Zenyatta was a free spirit but to miss group meditation? It was unlike him. Mondatta left the temple searching for his brightest but flightiest student.  

Last week, Zenyatta had disappeared to the village without telling anyone, the week before that he climbed the rafters to watch spiders weave a web, and before that he got himself stuck in a tree when he was watching the birds.

It was starting to become a problem. Zenyatta was, as Mondatta mused, like the wind. There was no telling what direction he would go. This made finding him difficult. To search the temple grounds would take hours though and to disrupt everyone else’s day to search for him was a bit much. Mondatta folded his hands behind his back. If he was going to find Zenyatta, he would have to think like Zenyatta. That meant-oh! What a lovely butterfly.

It was quite a beautiful thing, Mondatta admired. He wondered what it would be like to be a butterfly. What a perspective the delicate creature must have. To see things from its point of-

The gardens, he realized.

The butterflies were in the gardens and that’s where Zenyatta would probably be. As Mondatta walked to the gardens he wondered about Zenyatta. He was a gifted student. Incredibly bright with a genuine sense of wanting to help others and make the world a better place. But there was a…he didn’t want to call it a glitch but there was something in Zenyatta that him a bit of a problem child within the Shambali order.

Where the order needed unity, Zenyatta wandered.

When the order needed pacifism, Zenyatta spoke of defense.

When the order reviewed concrete ideals, Zenyatta had a way of making them question everything they had ever known!

It was actually pretty funny when Zenyatta would manage to mystify and confuse the younger monks but when it came down to it, he didn’t fit in. At his core, Zenyatta was a good omnic but was he monk material? It was a difficult thing to point down.

“How do you solve a problem like Zenyatta?”

He would be meditating about this for a while. Zenyatta was a pleasant enough omnic to be around. He could make others laugh and feel comforted by his presence. Privately, Mondatta thought that those were better qualities than proper posture for meditation but making others laugh and comforted weren’t assets that the monastery needed. Mondatta shuddered at the thought of having to expel his pupil from the sanctuary for omnics that was the monastery. The world was still a cruel and unforgiving place for omnics. To imagine Zenyatta, on his own, without a place to go was horrible. There was no telling who he would meet, what places he would go to, the trouble he could get himself in. Mondatta wondered if the humans worried about their children as much as he worried about Zenyatta. He heard voices as he approached the gardens. Soft at first but one was steadily growing louder.

“I assure you that I meant no harm.”

Zenyatta’s voice he recognized.

“You are wandering again!” Snapped the angry voice of Basho, a new refugee from Russia who fit in quite well with the other survivors from the Omnic Crisis. “You dishonor us.”

“I am truly sorry, I-“

“What would Master Mondatta say if he saw that you are late for morning meditation?”

“I would say that you are both late.” He answered. Basho jumped where he stood, Zenyatta bowed to him. “What disturbs you brothers?”

“Brother Zenyatta was missing meditation.” Basho dutifully informed.

“I could not help myself.” Zenyatta said apologetically, “But I needed to see the butterflies.”

Basho scoffed. “You lack discipline.”

Mondatta raised a hand, quelling any further arguments. “You needed to see the butterflies, Zenyatta?”

“Yes Master Mondatta. For you see, I had a dream.”

Basho snorted but Mondatta was unwaveringly understanding. “A dream?”

“I think was a dream. It was confusing. I know that the things that I saw were not from my memory banks but it felt so real. It made me happy.”

“And what was your dream?”

“I dreamt that I was a butterfly.”

Basho could no longer hold back his comments and exploded, “A butterfly?” He said disdainfully. “You are not a butterfly, you are a monk…and a poor one at that.”

“Brother Basho.” Mondatta chided.

“I know that I am not a butterfly but when I woke, I…I had a thought. Was it I, the monk, dreaming of being a butterfly, or was it the butterfly dreaming of being a monk?”

Mondatta could feel it in his wires that it was going to be a long day. “And you wanted to see the butterflies because…”

“I wanted to see if I recognized any. Butterflies must have friends like the birds have flocks and the bees have hives, correct? But as I was watching the butterflies, I had another thought.”

“Of all the ridiculous nonsense I have ever heard-“

“Brother Basho, I believe that the others could use your enthusiasm in the temple. Will you lead them in prayer?”

“Yes Master.”

Once alone, Zenyatta apologized again.

“I did not mean to cause trouble, Master Mondatta.”

“I know.” He said.

“I will go straight to meditation if-“

“Tell me your thought.”

“It seems very unimportant now, master.” Zenyatta said shamefully. “May I please go to meditation?”

“Thoughts should not be cast aside. What was your thought?”

“…that whether I am a monk or a butterfly, that I am Zenyatta…that true self is without form.”

All that from dreaming of butterflies…He was impressed.

 “Excellent thinking.” Mondatta bowed to his student. “You will be a master in no time.”

And three years later he would be. However, even with the achievement that came with gaining the title of Master, Zenyatta still continued to ruffle the metaphorical feathers of the Shambali order.

“Master Mondatta!” Basho shouted. “He’s at it again!”

He’s at it again, Mondatta thought, could mean a lot things. Zenyatta could be wandering, he could have gotten the monks confused, he could be stuck up a tree, or the more likely option, he could simply be annoying Basho again. Given the frequency of “He’s at it again”, Mondatta was willing to bet that he was annoying Basho. Mondatta rose to his feet and exited the temple.

“What is it now, Brother Basho?”

“Zenyatta is-“

“Master Zenyatta.” Mondatta gently corrected. Basho all out refused to call Zenyatta a master.

“He’s juggling!” Basho cried like it was the biggest travesty of the century.

“He’s…juggling?” Mondatta said slowly, “Like a circus clown?”

“With those orbs of his, Master! You should see him.”

And he did. Zenyatta was in the gardens again, a favorite spot of his, and his orbs were spinning about him but not by his hands. They were simply spinning around him.

“See?” Basho hissed.

“Master Zenyatta?”

His concentration broken, Zenyatta’s orbs fell to the ground. “Ah, Master Mondatta and Brother Basho.” He chirped, getting to his feet. “Are you here to enjoy the gardens too?”

“Brother Basho tells me that you have been juggling?”

“I guess it could be called juggling.” He said helpfully. “But I wanted to see if perhaps…” He trailed off seeing how scornful Basho had become.

“Yes?” Master Mondatta encouraged.

One the orbs started to float back in the air. It was followed by the others. Zenyatta’s hydraulics hissed as his body relaxed. Mondatta held back a chuckle. He had intended for the orbs to be a way for Zenyatta to stay closer to home. The monk was less likely to wander if he had something in front of him to focus on but he didn’t think that he would use the orbs for yoga. And he was right. One the orbs shot forward with violent speed. It cracked a tree in half.

“See? I thought that I could use the orbs for combat.”

That sent shivers down Mondatta’s core. Combat…the very thing that they were here to avoid. Oh dear, Iris…why combat? Why did it have to be combat? Why couldn’t it be sparrows or butterflies? None of the other monks were like this. Mondatta composed himself. “Zenyatta, my dear friend, I must ask, why?”

“Defense.”

“What did the tree ever do to you?” Mondatta had to ask.

“Master Mondatta!” Basho was aghast. “May I have a word with you?” He pulled his Master into the temple and spoke in a hushed tone, “He’s a liability. You must banish him.”

Over my dead body, Mondatta thought. Still, combat that was troubling.

“He has done nothing wrong.”

“We are pacifists. He’s using his fists.”

“Strictly speaking, Zenyatta is using his orbs.”

“Does the method matter when the result is the same? Master, you cannot allow this behavior to continue. It will fester.” Basho said crossing his arms. “One of these days, he will hurt someone or worse kill. I hope you are ready for that responsibility.”

Mondatta put those fears away. Zenyatta was stumbling but he was finding his way. He was a Master. He was kind and thoughtful with the newcomers who fled the ongoing conflict against their kind. He always accomplished his duties on time. He was an excellent teacher. With time, Mondatta hoped that Zenyatta would be able to take his rightful place among the order. Mondatta knew that he wouldn’t live forever. No one really knew how long omnics could live but if Zenyatta continued on his path the way he was going, then one day he would be able to take his place and lead the omnic civil rights movement.

That day would never come.

It was late, almost dawn, when Mondatta was awoken by the screams of his fellow monks. He feared the worst. Were they under attack? Had anti-omnics come to kill them? Mondatta left his sleeping quarters went to the very edge of the monastery grounds. Flames had engulfed the village below. Without wasting time, he ordered everyone to a secret hiding spot under the temple.

“GO!” He shouted. “Hurry now, one at a time!”

Mondatta counted each one as they hid away. But one person was missing. Mondatta stopped Basho, “Where’s Zenyatta?”

“I don’t know!” He cried hysterically.

Of all the times, Mondatta hopelessly thought. “Stay in the temple. I will come and get you.”

“And what if you don’t?” Basho shook uncontrollably with fear.

“Then all they will find is me.”

His plan was on shaky ground. He would go alone into the village. He would pretend to be a wandering omnic and if they asked if there were any other omnics in the area, he would lie. If they threatened him, he would lie. If they broke him, he would lie. If they threatened to kill him, then he would lie and die.

Mondatta raced down to the village. The falling snow seeping deeper into his joints and his core getting colder. He prayed the entire way down as the thick snowflakes got heavier. He prayed that his brothers and sisters would remain safe in the temple, that the Iris would watch over them, that everyone would live, that the village would survive, that Zenyatta-

He tried not to think of Zenyatta. His mind wandered to the worst case scenarios. Zenyatta’s lifeless body dashed to pieces among the snow, raiders torturing him…the world was such a cruel place for omnics. He knew that. He would have to be a fool to ignore it. The horror stories he had heard from the newcomers kept him up some nights; omnics sleeping wherever they could in the streets would be kidnapped and stripped for parts. Some were beaten or killed for simply existing. Was wanting peace so wrong?

Mondatta arrived at the village. Faces, some he recognized, were putting out the untamable fires. Others were mourning over the dead. It was in the center of the village that he saw him. Standing like a ghastly ghost among the dead. He was covered in blood and snow. It was in that moment that Tekhartha Mondatta knew true fear. The figure turned to him. It raised it’s hand.

Mondatta’s circuits went haywire. This was it. He was going to die and – An orb flew past his head.

Nine orbs in all float so delicately around the figure. Mondatta was frozen where he stood.

“Z-Zenyatta?”

His dearest friend turned to him and it broke Mondatta’s heart. Zenyatta was missing his arm. Sparks shot out sporadically. A long deep gash was across his chest, exposing his delicate core. As monks, they didn’t wear standard omnic protective plating. One well-placed shot and that was it. What had they done to him?

“Master?” Zenyatta wasn’t all there. His systems were handling too much at once. His core was overheating. His hydraulics hissed. His systems shut down all unnecessary functions but it wasn’t enough. Zenyatta collapsed.

 

 

From what Mondatta could gather from the villagers, the bandits had heard of omnics living in the mountains. They thought that they had found easy targets to strip of their parts. The villagers put up a fight but when the fire spread, the bandits had gained the upper hand. Somewhere between the fire and bloodshed, Zenyatta had come.

The rest was a mystery but two things were for certain: 1. The village was still standing because Zenyatta and 2. Zenyatta had broken every rule that the Shambali monks had created.

Mondatta shook his head as he rested in what constituted as the monastery’s hospital. He had yet to leave Zenyatta’s side. His injuries were so severe. The little blue lights on Zenyatta’s forehead dimly glowed. Zenyatta was in sleep mode. His arm had yet to be replaced and he would need a new shield plate. Mondatta doubted that he would ever be able to forget that haunting image of his brightest student nearly dead.

The screen door slid open. It was Basho with a cup of tea. Though omnics didn’t need to eat or drink to stay alive like their human counterparts, a cup of tea was always welcomed.

“Master Mondatta.” He bowed.

“Come in, Brother Basho.”

Basho sat next to his master. He kept grasping the sash draped over his body.

“If you have something to say, Basho-” Mondatta said wearily, “-I recommend you say it now.”

“I told you.” Basho said finally. “I told you that he would do it and he did. But did you listen to me? No! Master…I…I take no pleasure in this but we…we can’t allow Zenyatta to stay here. The movement is gaining credibility. You are becoming a household name. All of that will be destroyed if you keep undesirables like Zenyatta around. He has to go.”

“I cannot.”

“You must.” Basho pleaded. “Would you sacrifice our cause for one omnic? Master, you are blinded.”

“You forget your place.” Mondatta snapped.

“And you yours. You are our Master. Would you drag us through the mud, destroy everything that we have worked for because of him? Don’t we matter as much as he does?”

“Of course-“

“Then act. I know that it isn’t in your heart but allow us, his peers, to make a decision. We will give him a chance to talk, to plead his case but this cannot go unanswered.”

 And so it was to be. As soon as Zenyatta had recovered from his injuries, he was placed in the temple to answer questions and plead his case to his brothers and sisters. Mondatta looked on worriedly. Personally, he never saw violence as a means to an end but he could not deny that without Zenyatta’s intervention, they probably wouldn’t be alive right now. But would the others see it that way?

Mondatta forced himself to relax. “Zenyatta, what did you do?”

“Bandits were raiding the village.” Zenyatta said softly. “I told them to leave or to face punishment for their crimes.” His hands were shaking. “I told them three times.” His voice cracked. “Three times to put down their weapons and leave or I would be forced to take action. They did not. I was forced to act. I-I am so sorry, Master. I never intended to-“

“You purposefully killed in cold blood. You have violated everything that we stand for.” Basho’s voice, reverberated in the temple. The other monks were on his side. Mondatta watched helplessly as they turned against his student. This was out of his hands.

“I am sorry but when I saw the rising smoke and the fire…I could not stand by and watch them kill the villagers.”

“You are a monk, not a soldier. We do not act.” Basho said.

Zenyatta became rigid. “Was I meant to allow the slaughter?”

“There are others who would have fought.” A monk, Eila, piped up. “Many still fear us. To cause such a…mass murder, justified or not, it would have unfortunate ramifications.”

“We have worked hard to promote a peaceful existence.”

“I am aware of this.” Zenyatta tried to speak.

“Are you though?” Basho questioned. “The war we are now waging with the humans isn’t of violence but of respectability. If we are above reproach then any acts of violence against us reflects poorly against the human race. If we act out, we validate every negative thought and stereotype against omnics. What you have done is given ammunition to the opposition. It is unforgivable. I move to banish Zenyatta from Shambali.” Spoke Basho. “There is no place for your violence, your bloodshed, or your ideas here.”

One by one, the monks raised their hands.

“My ideas saved lives. I do regret the actions that I took but I will not allow the innocent to be hurt. If we are meant to promote peace then why do we not act when others are in danger? There is nothing peaceful about allowing the suffering of others to continue.”

“It is forbidden by our teachings. The order denies acts of violence.”

“So we let others die?!” Zenyatta cried out indignantly. “You would have us step aside because the religious doctrine decrees otherwise? That is insanity.”

“Heretic!” The monks shouted.

“Hear me out!” Zenyatta pleaded. “If we are to show the humans that we are respectable, then what is more respectable, _more human_ , than coming to the aid of others? If you have the power to act when action is needed then we should indeed act.”

“If you do not appreciate the order, Zenyatta-” Basho’s voice rose to match his. “-then _leave_.”

“Master Mondatta?” Zenyatta turned to him. His voice was full of hope that his master would understand his point of view but he would not. Deep down, Mondatta knew that Zenyatta would never become the monk he hoped he would be. He would never be able to lead the movement from his point of view. He would never be able to follow in his footsteps. With a heavy heart, Mondatta cast the final vote. He stared wearily at his bright student and said, “May peace be with you, Tekhartha Zenyatta.”

Zenyatta would never speak to Mondatta again. Tekhartha Mondatta would be assassinated before any attempt at reconciliation could be made. Zenyatta kept tabs on his former brothers and sisters as they made funeral arrangements for Master Mondatta. He wasn’t invited to the private ceremony but he was sure that the funeral was respectful and dignified…everything that Mondatta was. The Shambali monks never contacted him after his banishment and to do so now, it made him nervous.

Tracer led him to the meeting room. Winston breathed a sigh of relief seeing the resident monk and the fastest woman alive. Zenyatta became rigid and frigid when he saw Basho’s face bearing down on him like an angry god.

“I am required by my brethren to speak to Zenyatta alone. Would you mind if we-“

“Not at all.” Said Winston.

“See ya, Zenny!” Tracer dashed away.

The silence between the two monks was deafening.

Zenyatta respectfully bowed. “Brother Basho.”

“It is Master Basho now.” He couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice.

“What is it that you need, Master Basho?”

“Have you seen the destruction of our omnic brethren lately?”

Zenyatta had traveled the world. He had seen the attacks, the hate, and the senseless violence first hand. To say “lately” was a bit of a slap to the face.

“Yes, I have. If you are here to speak of possible missions then have no fear. Overwatch is already in Russia. I have full confidence that they will bring peace and restore harmony.”

“It is not only Russia that I am concerned with. England, Australia, and countless other countries refuse to give omnics rights of any sort. We are mere slaves to them. They refuse to bend.”

“I know.”

“The movement is suffering, Zenyatta. We require unity.”

“As Master Mondatta would say-“

“Master Mondatta is dead.” Basho said coldly. “There will be a memorial service in England at King’s Row. If there was ever a time for unity, it would be now. You are an Overwatch member and…and you were close to Master Mondatta. Your words would go farther than one virtually unknown monk. Would you be willing to speak at the service?”

“I…” Was he even worthy to speak of his Master in front of his followers? “I would require time to reflect on your offer, Master Basho. Master Mondatta was…” How could he ever fit everything that was Mondatta into a single speech?

“I understand but please think about it. If not for Master Mondatta then for the omnics who need to hear of words of comfort in these trying times.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personal headcanon: If you leave Zenyatta alone for a while, he will wander. He doesn’t mean to but when you’re barely twenty years old and there’s so much of the world that you haven’t seen, you’re going to want to take a look around.


	3. Chapter 3

Tracer was surprised to see Zenyatta leave the meeting room so quickly. She jogged after him.

“Hey, did it go okay?” She asked.

Zenyatta silently floated alongside her. Tracer tapped his shoulder. He jumped a little but relaxed when he saw her.

“Lena.” He bowed mid-air to her.

“You okay? You seem out of it, luv.”

“I was lost again on the path of life.” He said apologetically.

“It happens to the best of us.” She said cheerfully. “How did the meeting go?”

“It was satisfactory.” Zenyatta replied rather mechanically.

She continued to walk with him. “Satisfactory?” She chuckled. “Are you man or machine?”

“I am Zenyatta.”

“That’s our monk.” Tracer playfully punched his shoulder. “Did you know him?”

“I knew Master Basho when we were both students under Master Mondatta. We clashed often.”

“Clashed? You?”

It was impossible for her to imagine Zenyatta clashing with anyone. Zenyatta was Zen. He was the definition of calm. For him to actually clash with anyone was unthinkable.

“I was young, only five-years-old since my activation date when I met Basho for the first time. He saw and experienced the world differently than I did. My views were…unwelcomed where he was concerned.”

“But everything’s okay?”

“I have been asked to speak at Master Mondatta memorial service.” He answered quietly.

Tracer stopped walking. “Oh…” Her guilt gnawed at her. “W-wow! That’s a pretty big honor!” She bounced right back. “When are you going to go?”

“I do not know.”

“What?”

“To speak for Master Mondatta, I require further thinking.”

“Zenyatta?”

He floated to his room and said, “I must meditate.”

He closed the door on Tracer.

 

Alone in his room, Zenyatta sat in complete silence. He hovered above his bed and relaxed the best he could. Zenyatta cleared his mind. He was at peace. He-

_Heretic!_

_If you do not appreciate the order, Zenyatta then leave._

_You have violated everything that we stand for._

_May peace be with you, Tekhartha Zenyatta._

Zenyatta shook his head. He mind was clouded with the past. Zenyatta hugged himself. He truly did regret his actions those day but banishment?

“I was right in what I did.” He told himself. “I saved lives.”

It did nothing to ease his guilt. Zenyatta trusted his master with his life. He followed his teachings to the letter but where it came to intervention, Master Mondatta and his brothers and sisters thought otherwise. Zenyatta sighed. He picked up the photo of his master and held it carefully in his hands. This was all he had left of his master. The photo did nothing to capture the omnic that Master Mondatta was. Master Mondatta was everything. He was kindness. He was hope. He was a light in a dark world.

And he was gone.

Zenyatta shut off his facial sensors and folded his hands in his lap. From the lights on his forehead, Zenyatta projected a hologram of Master Mondatta. The hologram flickered into existence and bathed the dark room in a warm blue light.

“Good evening, Master Mondatta.” Zenyatta bowed to his master.

“Hello, Brother Zen-Zenyatta.” The hologram stuttered as the voice clips skipped. It didn’t matter to Zenyatta. He was happy to hear his master’s voice again. “H-Ha-Have you c-come to enjoy the gardens to-day?”

“Yes, master.”

“The gardens l-look lo-lovely.” The hologram viewed Zenyatta’s empty room as the Shambali gardens. “M-My fa-favorite are th-the hydrangeas. I-I was wo-worried that they would not survive the w-winter. Wha-What is you-your favorite, Zenyatta?”

Genji immediately popped into his mind. “The cherry blossoms.” Genji and he had met when the cherry blossoms were in bloom.

“A-An ex-excellent choice.” The hologram twitched. “B-Brother Basho tells me that y-y-oou-you left the temple a-af-after morn-morning meditation.”

“I am sorry, Master. I made a promise to the children in the village that I would visit. I should have informed you but, I…” Zenyatta’s hands curled into fists. Heartache coursed through his extensive network and sensors. It was worse than any injury he had ever received. “I miss you, master.” He choked out. “I miss you so much. I am sorry that I was unable to…”

He couldn’t keep the hologram up and running. It disappeared into nothingness. Zenyatta was left alone in his room.

“I wish I could be the omnic you thought I could be.”

How could he ever compare to the omnic that was Master Mondatta? Mondatta was the face of the movement, and he, a lowly banished monk, was a supporter to his team who sometimes killed people while spouting lines of acceptance and harmony. It didn’t seem right that he of all people should speak for his master.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t, Zenyatta decided.

Who was he to speak for Master Mondatta? He had violated what his master had deemed the rules to live life by. He was banished from the Shambali order. He had become a vagrant. He was nothing like Master Mondatta. But his mind went back to the omnics fighting and fleeing across the world. If Master Mondatta was here, he would be able to stop it all. It was true that he did not hold an iota of his master’s way with words or his presence at a podium but if he could reach one person, wouldn’t it be worth it?

Zenyatta did not know what to do.

He believed in the Iris. He believed in peace and in harmony. If he denied this chance to speak, was he also denying the chance for another person, whether they be human or omnic, to stop a potential act of violence? If he could break the chain and have one single act of kindness shine through, wouldn’t it be worth it? Naturally, it would be, yes. But it was one thing to speak of the Iris and being a good person and another thing to speak in memory of _The_ Master Mondatta.

What would he even say?

There were no words in any of his extensive and international language database that could describe how Master Mondatta was. What the public knew was nothing compared to the monk he had grown up admiring. Master Mondatta was kindness incarnate who always knew the right thing to say and could defuse any situation no matter how massive or petty it was. Zenyatta fondly remembered his master coming to his aid multiple times during his stay at the monastery.

What he wouldn’t give to go back and relive it again.

 

 

Genji has always wanted to visit Russia again but not when it was a hellhole. The mission was a disaster. Rebelling omnics were hard to fight but when some of armed forces combating the omnics thought that he was one – Genji groaned. The battle was hard enough without catching fire from his own side. He had gotten shot three times, all in the chest. Mercy was a godsend on the battlefield. She healed his chest but recommended that he take a couple of days off to fully recover. To say he was sore was an understatement. All Genji wanted was his bed, bath, and Zenyatta.

Genji closed his eyes on the plane. He could see it now. They would arrive back at the Overwatch base late that night. He would shuffle off the plane and Zenyatta would be waiting for him at the tarmac. He would greet him with open arms and a hug. Genji smiled at the prospect of getting a hug from Zenyatta. He gave the best hugs. He would melt in Zenyatta’s arms as his master asked him how the mission went and he would happily supply him with answers. Zenyatta would gasp at the right moments at his marvelous storytelling. They would still talk as he slipped into the bath, allowing the hot water to soothe his aching muscles. Then, if he played his cards right, he would be able to get a massage from Zenyatta. His muscles were screaming for it. His master’s cold fingers against his hot and throbbing muscles. Genji sighed. It would be heaven.

“Genji? You awake?”

McCree gently pushed his shoulder. Genji stretched and yawned. Daydreams were about to turn into reality.

“I am awake. Thank you, Cowboy.”

“Ain’t nothing, partner.”

Getting up from his seat, his muscles aching, Genji returned to his daydream. He longed for Zenyatta. Genji was the second person off the plane. He opened his arms, ready for the hug that he was due for but it never came.

Zenyatta wasn’t on the tarmac.

Lucio and Ana were there. Lucio ran to D.Va and swept her up in a hug. Ana greeted Reinhardt warmly and placed a loving kiss on his cheek. But Genji? No hugs and no kisses. No love at all. Wounded, Genji slinked off the tarmac and to his bedroom. He walked alone without someone to lean on. He had no one to hold hands with, hug, or kiss. There was no one for him to give or receive affection to. He passed his Master’s bedroom and was instantly confused as to why the door was closed. Genji opened the door for his master’s sake. He was surprised to see Zenyatta’s form inside the darkened room.

“Master Zenyatta?”

Genji entered the room. On the floor, he saw his master. Zenyatta was laying on his side. His head was down and pulled close to his chest. His arms were relaxed in a cradled position and the nine blue lights on his forehead were dimmed. His orbs were off in the corner. A low hum emitted from his master. A small smile spread across Genji’s face. Carefully, he lifted his master’s sleeping form up. Genji might not have gotten the welcome he desired but he would not be deterred from spending time with Zenyatta. Carrying his master bridal style, Genji went to his room.

Though he studied under Zenyatta, Genji did not incorporate his master’s monk lifestyle into his bedroom. Colorful clothes were strewn about in a thoughtful manner, LED lights in the shape of stars hung delicately from the ceiling. On the walls were vintage anime posters and on the floor was a rainbow colored shag rug. Tamagotchi pets, all alive and well, hung above his king sized bed.

Genji put his master on the right side of the bed. He was careful to straight his master’s legs out. Zenyatta spent most of his time with his legs crossed. If they weren’t straightened out occasionally, there was a chance that they would lock up. His master’s right leg, as Genji suspected it would, was difficult to unlock. The left was As Genji sat on the left side of the bed and placed his sword away, he reflected on talking to Mercy about Zenyatta’s legs. They didn’t cause much problems and Zenyatta was fine floating everywhere he went but for Genji it did make cuddling a little hard.

He would bring it up tomorrow. Today, he would take a shower and then cuddle. Genji stepped into the bathroom and turned on the hot water for his bath. He got into the massive tub and soaked. He let the hot water go all the way to his neck before he turned it off. He couldn’t wait to tell his master about the mission. He would leave nothing out. Genji sank a little under the water, maybe he would leave out how many times he got shot. That would be upsetting for his master but once Zenyatta heard how he had saved a group of omnic refugees from a missile blast, Zenyatta would be singing his praises. Genji perked up a little. Maybe he would be able to snag a massage out of Zenyatta yet.  

Genji relaxed in the warm bath water. He didn’t stay in long. His mind was Zenyatta. He wanted his master and his bed. Genji dried himself off, slipped into his pajamas, and removed his visor. He stretched, feeling better after his bath. Genji opened the bathroom door and was prepared to settle into bed with his master only to find that his master had disappeared from his bedroom.

Genji’s first instinct was to look up. It wasn’t unusual that when Zenyatta did spend nights with him, that he would float out of bed and sleep, accidentally, on the ceiling. But this time, Zenyatta was not on the ceiling. Genji was stumped. Zenyatta couldn’t walk. He often needed help with his legs if he were going to attempt walking. And then Genji heard the low hum. Genji crawled onto the bed and pulled back the covers. His master was underneath and sleeping. Genji slipped under the covers. He curled up next to Zenyatta and happily sighed.

The mission might have been a disaster but going to bed with Zenyatta made it all worthwhile. Sleep came easily for Genji and his dreams were pleasant but not for Zenyatta.

He dreamt that he was in darkness. There was no escape. No hope. It was stifling darkness that swallowed him up and trapped him. No matter how much he struggled or fought, the darkness dragged him farther down. Then a bright golden light chased the darkness away. Zenyatta could hardly believe his eyes.

“Master?”

Mondatta turned to him but didn’t say anything. He started to walk away.

“Master!” Zenyatta tried to follow but the darkness came back. It encased his legs. “Master! Master, please! Do not go. Please do not leave me.”

Master Mondatta kept on walking and paid no attention to Zenyatta’s pleas.

“I am sorry, Master!” Zenyatta cried out. “If I could take your place, I would!”

And suddenly, Zenyatta was standing amidst a crowd of people.

Fear.

Everyone was screaming.

Panic.

A red beam.

Mass confusion.

His sensors couldn’t process anything.

The sound of a single gunshot ringing out.

Pain.

His limbs were shattered. His core exploded. Pain tore through every sensor that he possessed. Zenyatta experienced death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff and nightmares!
> 
> Personal headcanon: Genji has the style sense of a teenage girl. He hangs posters up, he has LED lights hanging from his ceiling, he wears crop tops, etc. Part of him does this because he likes the colors and the clothes but the other part of him does it because it annoys Hanzo to no end.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a short chapter I’m afraid but it was needed. Thank you for all of your support and comments. It means the world to me. Also, I have a question that I would like to ask of you guys. I’ve had an Apartment/Neighborhood AU running in my head these last few weeks and I would like to know if this is something that you guys would like to read. If you do just let me know in the comments below.

Zenyatta woke up screaming.

Genji sprang into action. He grabbed his sword ready to call upon his dragon spirit and attack whatever threatened his master. But there was no enemy, only his master shaking like the last leaf on a barren tree.

“Master!”

Zenyatta didn’t realize Genji was there. He was too disturbed of what he had experienced to acknowledge his surroundings. Genji put his sword away and held his distressed master. Zenyatta couldn’t stop shaking.

“Master?”

He had never seen Zenyatta like this before. The fear that paralyzed him was eerily reminiscent of the days were he struggled with adjusting to his new body. It pained him to see his master suffer. There wasn’t much Genji could do for Zenyatta. So he fell back on the same techniques that his master had used when he suffered night terrors.

“You are safe now.” Genji whispered as he nuzzled against Zenyatta’s neck. “You are safe, master.”

Little by little, Zenyatta stopped shaking. He couldn’t speak. He was in a daze and trapped by fear.

Genji kept talking, “You are safe. You are wonderful. I adore you. I love you.”  He repeated these phrases of love and adoration for two hours until Zenyatta calmed down. Zenyatta’s sensors recalibrated as everything came into view. “G-Genji?”

He gave his master a little squeeze. “Hello master.”

“W-Where?” Zenyatta struggled to say. His night vision came on. Ah, he was in Genji’s room. He was safe. So why did he feel so vulnerable?

“Master? Would you…would you like to talk about it?”

“I…” Zenyatta paused and shook his head. How could he ever tell Genji about the Shambali monks? It was a different part of his life – it was in the past. “I am fine, Genji.”

“Master, please. Let me be there for you as you were for me.”

“It is-It is shameful, I’m afraid.” Zenyatta admitted. “I had a nightmare.”

“It must be a frightful nightmare to scare you.” Genji said softly. “What was it?”

“I can’t remember.” He searched his memory banks for the slightest recollection of his dream but found nothing. He vaguely recalled a gunshot. “I-I think I died.”

Genji visibly stiffened. He took in a deep breath. He was more scared than Zenyatta was. He put his fear away and asked, “And?”

Zenyatta leaned into Genji. “I can’t remember.” He said hopelessly. “I am sorry for waking you, Genji. I did not mean to disturb your rest.”

Genji doubted he would get any sleep. The idea of his master, in life or in dream, dying was frightening. “Master, what is really wrong?”

“I have been asked to prepare a speech at Master Mondatta’s memorial service.” Zenyatta then added sadly, “I do not believe that I am worthy to speak of him to his public.”

“Why?”

Zenyatta laughed lightly. “He is – was Master Mondatta, Genji.”

“And?”

He shook his head. “Master Mondatta gave hope to where there was none.”

“As have you.”

“Genji…”

“Zenyatta…” He smirked and planted a kiss on his robotic boyfriend’s head. “It isn’t a contest to see who can spread more harmony and peace than the other. Master Mondatta followed his own path as have you.”

“I wish you could have known him as I did. I think you two would have gotten along very well.”

“If he was anything like you-“

“If I was anything like him…”

“You are not Master Mondatta.”

“I know.” Zenyatta said sadly. He would never be anything like Mondatta. “I know, Genji.”

“You are Master Zenyatta. You are a good person. You are kind when others have shown you hatred. You protect ideals worth fighting for. You have shown me that life is worth living. And for that, I think, makes you an incredibly beautiful person. I did not know Master Mondatta as you did but I know his pupil intimately.” A mischievous grin spread across Genji’s face. Zenyatta felt his core heat up. “I think he would be proud of your path. And if he was as great as I hear him to be then he would be honored to have you speak for him.”

“I do not know…”

“Zenyatta, I will support any decision you make.”

“Thank you, Genji.”

They stayed awake, enjoying each other’s company. Genji was the first to fall asleep. Zenyatta stayed awake until the early morning hours thinking about Master Mondatta and the memorial service. Zenyatta knew three facts: 1. He missed his master terribly, 2. The memorial service would be a way to honor him, and 3. It would be a chance to break the cycle of violence that ravaged the world.

How could he deny the possibility of bringing peace? Wouldn’t that be ultimate way to honor Mondatta?

Common sense told him yes and that it was the right thing to do but the “what ifs” plagued his mind. What if he messed up? What if his speech was a pale imitation of what Master Mondatta could do? What if he let his master down one more time? Zenyatta turned on his side and looked at Genji who peacefully slept. If Genji thought that it was a good idea then it must be must.

I can’t do worse than banishment, Zenyatta mused.

The only way to go was up.

He left Genji in bed and made a call to Nepal. He waited patiently for him to answer.

“Master Basho.” Zenyatta bowed.

“Zenyatta.” He said curtly.

“About Master Mondatta’s memorial service…”

“What is your answer?”

“I will go.”

“Excellent.”

“I will meet you in King’s Row. If I could please have the date and time-“

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Then how will I know when to arrive?”

“You are meant to come here.”

“Pardon?”

“Due to the violent nature against omnics, we of the Shambali order have decided that it would be better to prepare for the service in Nepal.”

“At the monastery?”

“But of course. Where else?”

“I do not believe that-“

“Zenyatta, though Shambali is no longer your home, we at the order believe that if you were to truly present yourself as a disciple of Master Mondatta, it would be best if you spent a few days where his teachings are known best. Will you not honor him?”

“I will honor Master Mondatta.” Zenyatta rebutted. “I simply feel-“

“What you feel is irrelevant. It is what Master Mondatta would have wanted. We will come to you and escort you to the monastery tonight.”

“I see. I will inform Genji of this.”

 “Genji?”

“Oh Genji Shimada. He is…” Master Basho did not need to Genji’s relationship status with him. “…close to me. I couldn’t imagine not having him with me during these…difficult times.”

“We cannot allow outsiders. The order forbids it.”

“Forbids it? Shambali is a refuge.”

“Not anymore. We have had to tighten our ranks. We cannot allow violent ideology to fester on our sacred land. Surely you agree? Master Mondatta thought it was the right thing to do.”

“If Master Mondatta thought-“

“I’m so glad that you do.” Basho said triumphantly.


	5. Chapter 5

Tracer woke up with a groan. Tangled in the covers of her bed, she slowly stretched. Her feet went over the side of the bed. She laid face down and breathed into her pillow. She had a nightmare but couldn’t recall much. There were omnics and blood and…

Tracer shook her head. She couldn’t remember. It was all a blur. She flipped onto her back and rubbed her eyes. She stared at her ceiling and decided that there was no good coming from obsessing over a dream that she couldn’t remember. She looked over at her clock. It was only five. Tracer swung her legs over the side of her bed and got dressed.

Wearing her classic yellow jumpsuit, Tracer left her bedroom and went to the base’s kitchen. The kitchen wasn’t much to talk about. The Gibraltar base was rundown and the kitchen was hobbled together pieces that made it a semi-operable space. Winston and Torjborn swore that in eight days it would be fully functioning. That was two weeks ago. The war with Russia put any luxuries like a working kitchen on hold. It was training, weapons building, and planning for the foreseeable future. Tracer took comfort in the fact that they had hot running water and a seemingly endless supply of coffee, tea, and milk. Jack was to be thanked for that.

“I’m not setting foot on a battlefield without a cup of joe.” He said, taking a stand against the base’s miserable conditions. “I did it for three years and I’m not doing it again.”

It wasn’t hard to rally behind him. Coffee was needed to operate. Properly caffeinated agents meant that they were awake which meant that they were more aware of their surroundings which meant that they were less likely to get shot or hurt during battle which meant that they were less likely needed to see Mercy or other support teammates during the heat of battle. It was a win-win situation all around.

Tracer sighed. She could smell coffee brewing already. Life was good. But she didn’t hear the tell-tale footfalls of Jack. He was always made coffee in the morning. It was his ritual. She entered the kitchen and saw Genji pacing.

“Good morning, Genji.” She said as she tried to stifle a yawn.

Genji nodded to her and continued to boil the water for his morning tea.

“Thanks for making coffee.” She said, helping herself to the first cup. “How’s it going?”

He shrug his shoulders. Tracer pouted. These kind of vibes she expected from Hanzo or Roadhog, not Genji. She wondered what got his boxers in a knot. Did he wear boxers, she thought. He went without pants in battle but his new cyborg body did cover everything. Tracer shook her head. This was no time to be thinking of Genji’s decision to not wear clothes.

“Are you okay?”

Genji leaned against the counter. His arms were crossed against his chest. His head was tilted a little to the right. He sighed and said, “I am worried for my master.”

“What’s wrong with Zenyatta?”

“Nothing, hopefully. However, last night…Tracer, I consider Master Zenyatta to be the strongest person that I know. Not in physical strength but his kindness and serenity. Where I stumbled and fell, he was always there to pick me and last night…” He trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck. “Master Zenyatta informed that he will be traveling to England to honor Master Mondatta.”

“That’s great, isn’t it luv? I know Master Mondatta meant the world to him. He seemed indecisive when he got the call from the monastery.”

“I am proud of any decision that my master makes but this…this doesn’t feel right to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“The monks of Shambali have requested that he go alone.”

“Okay?”

“I have never been apart from my Master to where I could not follow.”

“Well, he’ll be safe, right? He’s staying at Shambali and not King’s Row?”

“I would feel better if I could go with him. King’s Row is dangerous for omnics and while I know my master can protective himself, I…” Genji shook his head. “Maybe I’m being paranoid.”

“It’s not when you’re worrying about someone you love.” Tracer said.

“I do not know what to do. I respect the Shambali order as my master does but I have considered breaking the go alone rule.”

“Considered?”

“I have been ordered to go back to Russia. The fighting has fired up again. A few of the rebelling omnics have targeted civilian residences.”

“Who else is going?”

“Zarya.” That was the obvious choice. “It is her home area where we are fighting.”

“How’s she holding up?” It felt like everyone was having trouble on their home turf.

“She is angry and quiet.” Genji answered. “She reminds me of Hanzo sometimes before we…” He shook his head and changed the subject. “Reinhardt is coming as is Mercy, Phara, and Junkrat.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Noon. I will not be able to see my master off.” He took a deep breath. “Tracer, I wish to ask a favor of you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I would like you to accompany Zenyatta to Nepal.”

“Genji, I-“

“I know it is crazy to ask but Master Zenyatta means the world to me. I love him, Tracer. I do not think that I could handle it if something were to happen to him.” Genji said tearfully. “He is precious to me.”

Tracer frowned. “Genji-“

“I should not have said anything.” He said remorsefully. “I am sorry. I-“

“Genji!” She grabbed his shoulders.

“Yes?”

“I’m going.” She removed her hands from him.

“Y-You are?”

“Yes. I get it. You’re worried.”

Genji chuckled. “Thank you.”

 

 

Genji spent the rest of his morning with Zenyatta. They mediated with each other, enjoying and taking solidarity of the other’s company, until Mercy came by.

“It is time to go.”

Genji unwillingly stood up. He hugged Zenyatta and kissed him goodbye.

“I am with you, Master.”

“And I with you. Goodbye Genji. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They parted ways on the tarmac. Zenyatta situated himself in the conference room to watch the news on the war in Russia. The stations covering the crisis showed nothing but fleeing people, rubble, and a few scenes from the battlefield. Occasionally, they showed some impressive feat of the team. Tracer joined in around three.

“Hey.” She sat down.

“Good afternoon.”

“Is there any news?”

“No. Have you heard anything from them?”

“Outside comms are shoddy as ever, luv.” Tracer pulled her legs up to her chest. “We have no visuals and anything we get is pfft!” She blew a raspberry. “Winston’s given orders that if things get too rough they’re to bail.”

“Do you think they will?”

“If it was me? I don’t think I could.” Photos of Zarya’s hometown were shown. Everything was in ruins. “I would stay and fight.”

A bomb shell exploded reducing a house to nothing.

“I would hope that you would take cover.” Zenyatta said caringly.

“When do you think the fighting will stop?”

“The war or overall?”

Tracer thought for a moment but went with, “Both.”

 “Never.” He said shockingly.

“What? _Zenyatta_!”

“The people will lay down their weapons eventually but it is an idea that fuels the war. The omnics who are fighting believe that they are equal to or superior than the human race but plan their actions with bloodshed. They’re angry. They want change and they want it now. So they’ll do anything even if it means hurting others to be heard. The people who are fighting against my omnics brethren have good intentions. They want to protect their homes and their country but they do have negative thoughts and ideas about omnics. They believe that we are better suited for hard labor and menial tasks. They do wish that we would stop fighting for our rights and return to our previous lives before we were enlightened. Those people do not believe that we possess souls or have feelings, that we are simply machines that have gone rogue. These ideas Tracer will continue to exist long after we are here.”

“That’s awfully cheerful of you, luv.”

“I say this with the best intentions. It is because these ideas persist that make Overwatch’s presence important. We are to balance the chaos in the world. We are to find the harmony.”

“Fighting doesn’t seem too bad when you put it like that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with fighting so long as it is for ideals worth fighting for.”

Tracer and Zenyatta stayed in the room, watching the news for the rest of the day until eight. At eight o’ clock sharp, a luxury jet landed on the base’s tarmac.

“It’s nice.” Winston commented.

“Nicer than ours.” Said Tracer.

“Lots of things are nicer than ours.” Winston said wistfully. “The jet still has dents from the first Omnic Crisis

The doors opened but not a soul stepped out. Zenyatta looked to his teammates, Winston and Tracer, and bowed to them.

“I will return as soon as I can.”

“Please do. We might need you to go to Russia soon if the fighting continues.” Winston said worriedly.

“See you later.” Tracer used her incredible speed and was gone in the blink of an eye.

Zenyatta boarded the plane. Basho was there, chatting with the pilot and there was another omnic; Eila, one of the first female omnics to join the monastery, sat in a tan plush seat. To his surprise, she actually did a little wave before Basho sat down next to her.

“Hello Zenyatta.” She said softly. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Eila.” He bowed as he took his seat. “You look lovely.”

She wore red robes with gold trim. A soft gold scarf was wrapped around her waist. She had eight blue lights on her forehead which were framed by delicate white swirls. Before his banishment, Zenyatta had never seen the monks dress so…flashy before. Basho was also dressed in a similar fashion but Eila stood out more.

“The years have been kind to you as well.” She said.

Zenyatta was hardly one to deserve such words. Eila was polished and refined, he was rusted with second hand, sometimes third hand parts. It was hard not to feel like a piece of scrap metal compared to Basho and Eila. Soon they were at cruising altitude and on their way to Nepal.

“Are we done with the pleasantries?” Basho asked. “I would like to get to business.”

“Please proceed.”

Eila spoke first. “Master Mondatta’s memorial service is set for the fifth. We plan to have it…” she clasped her hands together. “At the site of his-his death-I’m sorry. I-I miss him.”

“As do I.” Zenyatta reached out to her but was stopped by Basho.

“We _all_ miss him which is why his service needs to be flawless. Zenyatta, you do understand that while you are in Shambali, you are a guest, yes?”

“I do.”

“Good.” Basho snapped his fingers and Eila grabbed a thin stack of paper from underneath the desk. “Then you understand the need for you to sign this contract?”

Zenyatta flipped through the pages. “I, Tekhartha Zenyatta, swear that I will not discuss the operations of the Shambali order with members of the organization known as Overwatch or any organization that operates under a similar name, guise, or body as Overwatch.” He was dumbfounded. “This is a gag order.”

“Yes. The courts have proven useful to enforcing our freedom.”

“I fail to see how a gag order accomplishes that.”

“We are trying to protect ourselves, Zenyatta.”  Said Eila. “With our master gone, we are vulnerable. I realize how…unconventional this may seem but we need it. There is no telling where the next attack may come from and-”

“Is sabotage a great worry?”

“Not yet. But we have to be prepared. Zenyatta, please sign the paper.” Eila pressed.

Pen in hand, he did.

“While you stay in Shambali you are to adhere to our rules. Is that understood?” Basho stated.

“Yes. Have the rules changed much over time?”

“Group meditation is still at nine, chores are to be done by ten and meal times haven’t changed.” Eila said helpfully. “We have new rooms and a kitchen. The temple has finally been repaired so the winter air doesn’t seep in anymore. You’ll love it. The-“

“Eila, we are here to discuss the service, not sell the temple as a vacation spot to ex-monks.”

 “Sorry. That was careless of me.”

“A-Achoo!”

A sneeze was heard. The cabin went silent. Between the three omnics not one could sneeze. At least not what could be considered or even mimic a human sneeze.

“Bless you.” Zenyatta said to the unseen person.

“Thanks, luv.” Tracer appeared in the seat next to him. She stretched out her legs and cracked her knuckles. “I love your plane. It’s quite lovely. Much better than what we have back at base. You should see the miserable thing-always groaning and shaking.”

Basho jumped from his seat and used Eila as a shield. “Who the devil are you?”

“Name’s Lena Oxton but my friends call me Tracer! Isn’t that right, Zenny?”

“You are quite correct, my dear. I am surprised to see you here. Where were you?”

“Hiding in the refreshment cart.”

“Ah.”

“It’s not the most comfortable place to be but….”

 “You must make do with what you have.”

“Exactly. I knew you would understand.”

“Excuse me!” Basho roared. “I don’t care who you are but you’re not spending another damn second on my private plane!”

“You wouldn’t make a girl walk all the way back to her base, would you luv?”

“It would be highly cruel.” Eila piped up. “Considering we are forty thousand feet in the air. To turn back now would be a waste of time and gas.”

Basho shot Eila a dirty look. “Zenyatta, she cannot stay. I forbid it.”

“Master Basho, I must disagree with you. What better way to improve human and omnic relations than having a celebrated and founding member of Overwatch at Shambali?”

Master Basho took one look at Tracer and scoffed. “Her celebrated? Master Mondatta was celebrated and he did not run around in a yellow jumpsuit to do it. Besides, she’s is an Overwatch member and we have an agreement, a law-binding one. You will not be able to talk to her at all during your stay at Shambali.”

“Oh see, I’m not an Overwatch member. Not anymore anyways.”

“What?” Basho snapped. “I saw you at the base. I talked to that monkey _thing_.”

Tracer became very still. “Winston. Is. Not. A. Thing.” She said through gritted teeth. “He’s a scientist.” She took a deep breath. “Overwatch was disbanded years ago. Now, a couple of us veterans get together and talk about the good old days and tell jokes. We’re as harmless as a knitting club.”

“But aren’t you fighting in Russia?” Asked Eila. “I saw two fellows, Reinhardt and Jesse McCree, on the television.”

“We’re a very active knitting club.” Tracer said with an award winning smile.

Eila laughed but Basho remained unmoved. Zenyatta came to her defense. “She has proven herself time and time again that she is reliable. I trust her.”

“Is that so?” Basho asked.

“With my life.” Zenyatta swore.

 

The rest of the flight was riddled with silence. Basho refused to say a thing with Tracer present. Eila tried to make light conversation but Basho’s attitude spread like a toxic cloud and made the trip unpleasant. Tracer found it easier to sleep the rest of the way. When she woke, they were starting to descend. Basho had gone into sleep mode but Eila and Zenyatta were talking.

“How are the gardens?”

“Beautiful as ever. We planted a tree for Master Mondatta. It is a sapling now but it’ll grow.”

“Of that I have no doubt. When did you make master?”

“A year after you left. Master Basho recommended it and Master Mondatta approved it.” Eila went quiet. “When-When did you find out about…?”

“I saw it on the news. You?”

“I was there-backstage. I heard the explosion and then the shot and…I just knew it was him. What was the point of having bodyguards if they didn’t guard him?” She scoffed. “Sorry, I know how bad that sounds but…”

“I miss him too.” He looked at the contract that he signed. “I guess this was your work?”

“Spending half my life in an attorney’s office was good for something after all. What about you? The last bits of news we got was that you were a wandering guru? Solving people’s problems with…your balls?”

Zenyatta snorted. “Orbs.”

“You say ‘tomato’, I say ‘tomato’. But now you’re with Overwatch?”

“Off the record, I assume?”

“I never heard a thing.”

“Yes.”

“How bad is it in Russia?”

“Bad enough that we are involved.”

“I heard a rumor that omnics are bombing civilians. Please tell me it’s not true.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh. People hear that and they think that we’re all like that, that it’s the First Omnic Crisis all over again. Some are calling it the Second Omnic Crisis, can you believe it?”

“I believe that where there is fear people are comforted by giving it a name.”

Eila laughed. It was happy at first but then it turned into a heartbreaking, sobbing laugh. “You sound just like him, you really do. Dear Iris, if he could see us now, turning away refugees? Gag orders?” She shook her head. “He would be turning in his grave.”

“I thought that the refugees was-“

“Mondatta’s idea? When was the great man ever able to turn anyone away? No, it was Basho. There were a couple of omnics who wanted to fight back against our oppressors. They were talking about bombings and killing. Making a grand stand against anyone who’d hurt us. Basho freaked. He found that they were stockpiling weapons inside the temple and he wasn’t having any of it. He kicked them out.”

“What happened to them?”

“I heard they ended up in Russia.” She said darkly.

“I see…”

“I’ve been busy nonstop writing press release statements that we’re not like the other omnics. Your speech will help us greatly.”

“I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your support guys. It means the world to me. Let me know how I'm doing in the comments section below.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I hope you all are enjoying your weekend. I'm updating early because this week is going to be pretty tiring for me and I don't want to miss the Tuesday update so here you go. Now I have a question to ask of you and this is related to the Apartment AU. If I posted the first chapter to the Apartment AU, sometime around September 20th, would you read it? The Apartment AU will be a monster of a fic. We're talking well over 50 chapters. Are you guys interested in that? Let me know what you think in the comments below. I love to hear what you guys think.

As soon as the plane landed, Basho took command. He ordered everyone to start walking. The small airport that was out of place in the tiny peaceful area was as Eila informed her and Zenyatta “Brand new”. The Shambali order had an increasing need for travel and with the nearest airport hours away, it made more sense to simply build one.

“Ms. Oxton if you should need to take a break, please let Eila know. I would hate for our journey to be hampered by dead weight.”

“How long is the walk up, luv?”

“If I recall correctly, the monastery is thirty miles away.” Said Zenyatta.

“Thirty miles? This’ll be a walk in the park er- mountains.”

“You have that kind of stamina?” Asked Eila.

“I was a fighter pilot back in the day. What about you? Were you always a monk?”

 “I was-“

“Once we become monks-“ Basho interrupted. “-our past lives do not matter.”

“Basho was a dishwasher.”

“EILA!” Basho fumed.

“Back in Russia, he was used to wash dishes and plates. Day in and day out, he was up to his elbows in suds.”

“Okay, you shut up.” Basho scoffed. “Russia was a long time ago. I would rather forget it.”

“What about you, Zenyatta? What did you do?”

“I don’t remember.” He answered. “For as long as I can recall, I have always been a monk.”

“You have?”

“Zenyatta was here before we were.” Said Eila.

“He was with our Master when I arrived at the monastery.”

“That’s right.” Zenyatta laughed. “I was in the gardens when I greeted you.”

“You didn’t greet me! You scared me.”

Tracer laughed. “What?”

“This maniac was hanging upside down in a tree when I arrived in the gardens.”

“I heard that Basho’s scream was legendary.” Eila snickered. “The people in the village still talk about it today.”

“What were you doing in a tree Zenyatta?”

“The buds on the tree were starting to bloom. I wanted to see it happen. The flowers were beautiful that year.”

 

 

When they arrive at the monastery is was peacefully quiet. There wasn’t a noise to be heard as the snowflakes floated down. Tracer shivered.

_I should have brought a jacket_ , she thought.

Basho straightened his robes, making sure that there wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen and said in a voice that lacked that authority that it held, “Eila, show Ms. Oxton to a room. Something suitable for a human. I need to speak to Zenyatta alone.”

“I would rather stay with Zenyatta than-“

“I will be fine, Tracer. I will see you in the morning.”

“If you say so.”

“Follow me, please.”

Tracer cast one final glance before leaving with Eila. They walked in silence. Tracer took a deep breath.

“So…You’re a female omnic?” She said starting off small.

“Yes.”

“I’ve never seen one of you before. N-No, I didn’t mean it like that I-um…”

“No, I understand. It’s a sausage party here.”

Tracer gasped. She didn’t know what to say. To hear Eila say something like that blew her mind.

Eila laughed at Tracer’s expression. “Did you think that we were all saints here?”

She stuttered and tried to think of something to say before she finally settled on shrugging her shoulders.

“I guess when you hang around Zenyatta, it get cemented into your mind that every monk who follows the order is like him or Mondatta.” She chuckled a little. “It’s really good to see him again.”

“He didn’t visit often?”

She scoffed. “Hardly. Banishment has a way of burning bridges.” They came to a small shack with wooden floors but a comfy looking bed. “I hope this will be suitable. We don’t get too many humans.”

“ _Banishment_?”

“You didn’t know?”

“He never said anything.”

“Hmm, you are heroes. Maybe he felt that he didn’t belong.”

“Overwatch wasn’t and isn’t perfect.” Where to begin? Jesse was a mercenary and arms dealer, Jack was a vigilante, Junkrat and Roadhog were thieves, bombers, and arsonists, Hanzo and Genji came from a crime family. “No one is perfect.” Mondatta’s death was still fresh on her mind. She could have saved him. “We all make mistakes. We’re not saints.”

“EILA!” Basho called out.

“I have to go. One does not linger when Master Basho shouts.”

“Wait, will you come back?”

“Maybe, if there’s time.”

“ _EILA_!”

“I’m sorry. I can’t keep him waiting.”

She was gone in an instant. Eila disappeared into the darkness and left Tracer wondering how much or rather how little she knew of the team’s resident monk. _He would have told us_ , she thought, _we’re a family._

She considered Overwatch to be her family. Not too many people could keep up with her literally or figuratively. The chronal accelerator kept her stable but it made socializing hard. People stared at the device lodged in her chest. She remembered the fundraising days for Overwatch. She and Winston were the prime “Look how special we are”. People were impressed by Winston talking and by her just being alive. Tracer slipped into the bed and lit a candle.

_Did Genji know?_

She assumed so. They were lovers. He had to know. Tracer got her phone out. It couldn’t hurt to ask. The phone rang and rang but Genji didn’t pick up.

_I hope everyone’s okay._

That was her final thought before sleep claimed her.

 

 

Sometime in the middle of the night, Tracer heard footsteps crunching on the snow. Instinctively, she reached for her pistol, still strapped to her thigh. She rushed to the door and pointed the gun in Eila’s face.

“If this is how you greet a friend then I would hate to see how you greet a friend.”

“Sorry! Reflex.”

“No need to apologize. We all make mistakes.” Eila took off the make-up and glittering gold that decorated her face. Underneath the faceplate, she looked more like a standard omnic. Still, she was more polished than Zenyatta was. “Some-“ She stared at the decorated faceplate. “-greater than others. “Since you will be staying here…I feel as though I should warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“Yes. Tracer, please, may I speak to you in confidence?”

“Yes.”

“We’re in shambles.” Eila said gravely. “Losing our Master has not only stopped the movement dead in it’s tracks but it’s taken the heart and soul out of everyone who lives here. We are not the monks we used to be. Mondatta was our strength, our light…he’s gone now and we are wandering in the dark.”

“And you believe that we’re in danger?”

“Believe it? Please, I know it. We’re on a sinking ship. Shambali order? We might as well be called the Titanic.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know how many omnics have fled from our cause? Nearly fifty percent. Mondatta was our symbol for hope and safety. It didn’t matter how bad things got because as long as he was willing to march on, we were too. When he was killed, it sent a message through our community that no one is safe. We’re all targets. I fear that when we go to King’s Row we’ll be going to our executions.”

“I won’t let that happen! No one’s getting hurt! Not while I’m here.”

“Oh thank you!” She hugged Tracer. “Thank you.” She let go. “I’m sorry for being so forward but the idea of going to England has kept me up for days. I feel so much better now that you’re here. Basho insisted on going to King’s Row to honor our Master. He said that it was the right thing to do. Iris help me, I don’t know why. He’s seen what people can do to omnics. I know what they can do.”

“What happened to you?”

“Before I joined the monastery, I was an assistant in a law firm. I had a small crappy apartment that was the size of a broom closet and I had no friends. I went to work and slept. It was day in and day out. I wasn’t really living, I was existing. One day, there was an anti-omnic rally close to where I lived. I didn’t know anything about it until I was dragged into an alley way by five men and…” Eila put her hands over her face. She could clearly recall the attack. She remembered all those hands on her body, touching her in places she never allowed anyone. “Sorry, it’s still hard to talk about. After the attack, I was left for dead in that alleyway. I thought I was going to die. Eventually, someone found me and brought me to an omnic friendly clinic. I didn’t have any money to afford new parts. Then the Shambali order came in with Master Mondatta at the lead. He took one look at me and told me that I was going to be okay. Before morning, I had new parts. Physically, I was fine but mentally? Dead in the water.”

“I hated myself. I hated that I was so stupid that I didn’t pay attention to my surroundings. I hated myself that I didn’t scream when my attackers told me to be quiet. I hated myself for being so weak and helpless. There wasn’t a single thing that I liked about being me. I didn’t go into work the next day. Instead, I went looking for Mondatta and his followers. I found them camping out in a rundown church. Apparently, no one wanted to house them. They-“ She giggled. “-were sleeping on the pews. I found Mondatta asleep and when I went to wake him up, do you know what he said to me?”

“What?”

“Five more minutes please, then I will search for inner peace.” Eila said. She and Tracer broke into laughter. “He was such a good man. He had this aura about him like you could open your heart and mind to him, tell him every little detail about your life and no matter how insignificant it was, he would remember. Master Mondatta made me feel like I was everything. He made everyone at the monastery feel like they belonged. It was…magical. When Zenyatta was banished, it broke Mondatta. He didn’t walk like he used to. He would wander to the gardens but he wouldn’t mediate or anything. He would stand there and sigh. I don’t think Zenyatta realizes how much it destroyed our master to send him away.”

“Why was Zenyatta banished?”

“Some winter’s night, years ago, bandits attacked the village below our monastery. Our Master hid us away. He intended to go into the village and die. Zenyatta was already at the village. He battled the bandits, killing them in the process and he nearly died doing so. Here in Shambali, we believe in nonviolence. Zenyatta, what he did was horrible but without him I don’t think that we would have survived the night. He was brought before us, his peers, and Basho, he led the charge. He had Zenyatta banished. I agreed with him at the time but now? I would give anything to have those years back. It would have brought peace to our Master.”

“He really cared for Zenyatta, didn’t he?”

“Call me jealous but Zenyatta was Master Mondatta’s favorite. Everyone could see it. I guess Mondatta saw a lot of himself in him. A part of him died the day Zenyatta was banished. Nothing really brought him out of it. I wasn’t much help. I kept telling him to forget about Zenyatta that the movement needed him. Sometimes I wonder if we hadn’t pushed him to do the rally at King’s Row, would he still be alive?”

“King’s Row was your idea?”

“Basho’s and mine. We thought that if he had a challenge, something to sink his teeth into then he could forget about it even for a little bit. We led him straight to his death. I can still hear the gunshot…”

“…me too….”

“You were there?”

“I was.” She said sadly.

It was the smirk of Widowmaker’s that killed her. That little “I did it” when she pulled the trigger. She felt nothing for the life she had taken.

“I remember Master Mondatta saying that tragedy binds us. If you need someone to talk to, then I’m here for you.”

“Thanks.” She was grateful for Eila’s offer but how could she ever tell Eila that it was her fault for Mondatta’s death?

“Try and sleep. Tomorrow will be a better day.”

 

 

Sleep did not come as easy as the first time for Tracer. Flashes of Widowmaker cruelly aiming and killing Mondatta stayed in her mind. It was the same scene over and over again. The gun going off, Mondatta collapsing, and her laugh. Tracer stopped seeking sleep as dawn came up. She ran a hand through her hair. She left the wooden shack. Tracer had no real place in mind where she was going.

Eventually, she found herself in the gardens.

The sun rose above the mountains. Tracer stopped to watch. It was strange how lovely this place could be and half-way across the world, hell was breaking loose. She wondered how the team was doing. They were all a very capable bunch but every battle was different. There was no guarantee that they would be fine.

“Good morning, Tracer.”

She gasped and turned around. “Zenyatta! How long have you been here?”

“A while. I too found sleep elusive.”

“Basho?”

“Master Basho found it necessary to remind me of the delicate balance that of the movement is experiencing. As if he needed to remind me.”

Tracer stared at Zenyatta. He sighed. “That was out of line. I’m sorry.”

“What did he say?”

“Everything and nothing. He used phrases and euphuisms to politely say do not mess this opportunity up.” He chuckled humorlessly. “It’s as though nothing has changed.”

“Do you miss it here?”

“Somedays. I miss the gardens and the people in the village but I am happy with the life that I have with Genji and you and our Overwatch. Would you be happy if I missed it?”

“Y-Yes? No…”

“What is troubling you?”

“I heard that the omnic movement is suffering. That it’s on its last legs. Is it true?”

“Yes. Our numbers are few.”

“Will you stay here if things don’t get better?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Oh…”

“I find that meditation helps ease a troubled mind. Would you care to mediate with me?”

“Sure.” It wasn’t like she had anything better to do.

She sat next to him. She took a deep breath. Then her foot started to move up and down. It was hard to sit still. She looked at Zenyatta who peacefully hovered. How did he do it? How could he turn it off? Her mind was buzzing with questions. Would Zenyatta leave the team? Would Genji leave too and follow him here? If they left, how long would they be gone? For as long as the war in Russia was going on? Until omnics were safe and given equal rights? Who knew when that would happen? Was it even possible for peace to be reached between omnics and humans? She wanted to believe it but how could she? The world was falling apart.

Tracer groaned. This was impossible. She couldn’t meditate.

A child was peeking out from behind a tree. The kid had the biggest smile on his face. Tracer inched away from Zenyatta.

“Hello.” She whispered.

The child came out from behind the tree. He was wearing goggles just like her’s. The child giggled and from behind the tree came another child. This one was an omnic. Tracer gasped. She had never seen a child omnic before. The omnic child was wearing goggles like her too. The children chatted very eagerly. They came up to her and said only one word: “Play?”

“Oh I can’t, luvs. I-“ But those big puppy dog eyes, how could she ever say no?

“Play?”

“Ok. Let’s go play.”

 

 

The village below the monastery was filled with humans and omnics. They walked among each other and greeted each other with civility and peace. They lived as though omnics and humans had never known conflict. The children had brought Tracer down to play tag. She went slow, as slow as she could achieve with her chronal accelerator.

“Oh no, you got me.”

The children ran from her, screaming and laughing with joy. Tracer breathed in the crisp air. This was good. Life was good. Peace was achievable. She ran until she bumped right into Zenyatta.

“I see you’ve cleared your mind.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Few do.”

“I didn’t mean to leave meditation but-“

“-What is the boring practice of sitting in one spot concentrating on the complexities of life compared to a thrilling game of tag?”

“You’re not mad?”

“Hardly. I believe that this helped you better than meditation. But Lena?”

“Yes?”

“Tag. You’re it.” He hovered away from her.

“That’s not fair!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I hope you enjoy this new chapter and I would like to let you know that I have posted the first chapter of the Apartment Au. I highly encourage you to check it out.

In the deepest part of the monastery, where sunlight could not filter through, was Master Basho. He preferred to meditate in the dark. He found the lack of light comforting. The constant sound of water dripping and hitting the floor provided a steady rhythm for him. This was the way to meditate. He felt so relax and peaceful. He wondered if this was how Master Mondatta felt all the time. He imagined so. Master Mondatta an omnic who had that effect on everyone. Basho slowed his breathing. He could feel it. He was close to experiencing true tranquility. He-

“Master Basho?”

And in one foul swoop, tranquility had escaped him again. Basho groaned.

“ _What is it_?” He snapped.

Master Eila came forward.

“I left a note on the door not to be disturbed. What is it?”

“You requested to be notified when Zenyatta and Tracer were awake. This is your notification.”

Basho snorted. “How kind of you.”

“You asked. I can understand why you want to speak with Zenyatta but why Tracer?”

“That woman can’t be trusted. I don’t care what she says, I know that she’s an Overwatch agent. She’s waiting to see our weakness.”

“Paranoid, aren’t you?”

“Of course, I’m paranoid. Wouldn’t you be? Look at Russia. Enemies are everywhere. Our movement is their target and I will not allow them to sully Master Mondatta’s legacy. Eila, distract Tracer.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is the word “distract” not in your vocabulary?”

“Is the word “explain” in yours?”

“Am I the only one who isn’t blind? I can’t have that woman following him around like the demented speed freak that she is.”

“I’m busy drafting proclamations against the conflict in Russia right now. Pass it off to one of the other monks.”

“No!”

“Basho.” Eila warned.

“Master Basho.” He said.

“I don’t care. I’m not going to distract Tracer for you because you’re paranoid. He’ll tell her whatever you tell him. Might as well get it over in one dose.”

Basho eyed Eila bitterly. “Where are they?”

“Playing tag with the village children.”

“He’s doing what?!”

“Playing. Tag. With. Children.” Eila said slowly so Basho would understand. “It’s a common game played by many children around the world. Adults and adolescents have been known to play it when they are happy. The game involves two or more, preferably more, people running away the person known as “it”.”

“You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

“It took you that long to realize it?”

“Some days I don’t know why I keep you around. I could easily have you banished.”

“I wouldn’t get so comfy on your throne, Basho. You kick out one too many people and suddenly there’s an army against you. Master Mondatta wouldn’t be happy if you were the reason omnics continued to live in oppression.”

“How dare you bring him into this?” Seethed Basho.

“If I correctly recall, you were the one who thought going to that English hell-hole was a bright idea. You led him to his death.”

“I hired bodyguards!”

“And how _brilliant_ they were at their jobs.” Her voice was laced with venom. “His safety was priority number one and they fucked up royal. Their failure is on you.”

“You think that I wanted this? I don’t want this. I can’t hold a candle to him!” It was one of the few things that Eila and Basho could agree on. “Please.” Basho begged. “Please, get Zenyatta and take care of Tracer for me.”

“I’ll do it but not for you, for Mondatta.”

She left Basho alone in the monastery. Eila guessed that if she were human and had skin that it would be crawling. Mondatta walked with angels but Basho? He was like a slug that crawled out of the deepest pit on earth. She doubted that he had a soul. What did Mondatta see in him? She understood that the monastery was a sanctuary and while she didn’t agree with Basho’s extreme methods of excluding new refugees, there were some people who should be allowed to be part of the order. Basho…what did he know of people? He spent half of his time cooped up in the temple and the other half was spent with her dictating new proclamations and speeches that were never going to be heard by the public.

She used to do important things with her life. She organized Mondatta’s meetings, she made connections with the right people, and she was the one who oversaw change in places that had once held omnics on the same level as roaches. She did work in Australia for crying out loud.

And now what? Being Basho’s minion? Was that her life now? Playing fetch for him whenever he said “Go get it”? He say jump and her response was to be “How high”? She was more than this. She was more than Basho could ever be. She was a survivor. She had seen the worst that humanity had to offer and she spat in it’s eye.

Eila didn’t go to Tracer and Zenyatta right away. She stopped at the gardens to visit Mondatta’s tree. She knelt to the little sapling. It was strange that this little thing, this still growing sapling, would one day be a strong shady tree. It didn’t seem possible but then again it suited Mondatta. No one thought that what he did, what he accomplished in his lifetime was possible.

“Hello Master.” She spoke softly to the tree. She heard that if you spoke to plants, they grew better. She didn’t know if it was true or not but it made her feel better to speak to him. “It has been thirteen days, twenty minutes, and sixteen seconds since I’ve last came for a visit. I didn’t mean to spend so much time away from you but a war has broken out in Russia and…and things have been crazy. Basho’s ruling the place with an iron fist and-and…” She didn’t want to burden her master with Basho. He was at peace now. “Zenyatta is here. You may have seen him. He was in the gardens earlier, meditating in his normal spot. It’s funny, you know. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Zenyatta still likes the garden over all other spots in the monastery, Basho is still a prick, and I’m…”

What was she now? She followed Mondatta religiously and now that he was gone, so was her identity.

“I’m lost. Master, we need you – not just us at home but the world needs you. Dear Iris, we’re scrambling. I’ve written more papers this week than I’ve written in a lifetime. It’s been nonstop. Enough about me, how are you? Is it nice where you’re at? Is the afterlife all that? I know it sounds selfish but I wish I with you. I wish you weren’t gone. I wish that you were alive and well. I wish that bullet hadn’t sent our lives spiraling into this hell.”

The monastery wasn’t home anymore. No place felt like home. She could leave. Leaving was always an option but if she did that meant handing over the reins to Basho completely. He would have control over Mondatta’s legacy. She couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t let him drag their master, _her_ master’s, good name through the mud. She would rather die than have that happen. She would cling to dying embers that were Mondatta’s trailblazing spirit until they extinguished.

“I will protect your memory, Master. I will not fail you.”

She brought Zenyatta to Basho and kept Tracer with her.

“I’m sorry about this.” She said apologetically to Tracer as they went to her office. “Basho is being cranky and I don’t want to deal with him. It’s easier this way.’

“It’s alright, luv. Don’t worry about it.”

Eila settled down at her desk. There were a pile of notes and half-finished press release statements on her right and dozens of new reports of the Second Omnic Crisis on her left. Eila sighed. “It never stops.” She worked in silence. Tracer kept to herself and sat in the corner, alone with her thoughts. Eila could feel Tracer staring at her. She liked Tracer well enough. She seemed to be one of the good humans but she didn’t want to have to babysit her.

“When did he start floating?” Eila asked awkwardly, breaking the silence between them.

“Zenyatta? He’s floated since I’ve known him.” Tracer said. “Can’t you float?”

“Only if I’m on my last legs.” Eila replied. “Pun not intended.”

“What do you mean?”

“We can all float. It’s a back-up system but it only happens when our legs are damaged. So how’d it happen to him? What did he get it with?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Oh…well that is unfortunate then…um….”

Tracer hung her head in shame.

“Don’t feel bad, you didn’t know. We don’t exactly advertise how our bodies work.”

“I admire Zenyatta.” Said Tracer. “I really do but lately, I feel that I don’t know anything about him. We’re supposed to be a team and it feels like we’re not.”

“I don’t think he knows a lot about himself. You heard him last night. He doesn’t have any memories before becoming a monk. He doesn’t talk about himself. Zenyatta doesn’t have anyone.”

“He has Genji.”

“Who’s Genji?”

“Genji Shimada.”

 “Wait, hold up. Zenyatta, apple of Mondatta’s eye, is shacking up with an heir to the Shimada crime family.” She shook her head. “Wow. I never took him for tattooed, half-dressed ninja type.”

“That’s Hanzo.”

“So Genji would be the cyborg-omnic, no pants or clothes guy?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t if that’s a step up or down.”

 

 

Genji laid uncomfortably in the cot that the Russian military had provided for the Overwatch team. The cot was rock hard and the pillow? Genji sighed. He would have neck pain for years to come.

The battle was hell. The omnics were relentless. They had broken through the barrier between the battlefield and the denser civilian area who were unable to evacuate. Within ten minutes, the omnics took over three city blocks. Thirty people died. Zarya with righteous fury took the lead. She left not a single omnic standing. There was little doubt in Genji’s mind that the dead omnics would fuel the fires of war. He turned on is side, hoping to find some comfortable sleeping position.

He didn’t.

“Sleeping on the floor would be better than this.”

Genji left the barracks. The outside air was thick with smoke and ash. Genji went to nearby station. The rickety structure barely survived the attack. Nimbly, he jumped through the air and gracefully landed on the tower. On the horizon, were the burned out and crumbling buildings and in the streets were the dozens of dead omnics. He was relieved that tonight Zenyatta was not here to witness this. Genji folded his arms against his chest. Today he had seen the omnics waving flags with Mondatta’s name.

“We shall overcome!” Was their rallying cry. “We shall preserve!”

One blast from Zarya’s mini-gun silenced them.  

What would Master say about this?

Even Genji found it hard to believe that his master would be able to be optimistic in the face of this madness. He thought of his master’s master and how he would react seeing the attacks in his name. He knew what his master would do. Zenyatta would fight back and protect those in need. He would take a stand against the violence. Now he was fighting with words. He hadn’t heard a thing from Zenyatta or Tracer. The Shambali monks hadn’t released any information on Mondatta’s memorial service either.

“Genji?”

McCree was calling out to him. Genji jumped down. “Trouble?”

“Nah. It’s quiet out there. I reckon the omnics have turned tail. If we’re lucky, we should be able to head back in a week or so. You’ve got a phone call at the command center.”

“Zenyatta?” He said hopefully.

“Sorry, partner. I haven’t heard a lick from him. It’s from Tracer.”

Genji was gone in an instant.

 

The set up in the command center was a jumbled mess of fourth-hand technology. Genji grabbed the phone.

“Tracer?”

“Hello, luv.” Her cheerful voice crackled through the weak connection.

“Is everything okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re in Russian, not me.”

“We might be returning home soon. How is my master?”

“Zenny’s doing okay.”

“May I speak to him?”

“He’s in a meeting with the head monk, Basho. Sorry, luv.”

“Oh…”

“But um, I wanted to ask you a question?”

“Yes?”

“About Zenyatta?”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, I was just curious…about um…his legs?”

“They do have a tendency to lock up.” Genji said thoughtfully. “Is he-“

“No, Genji. I-“ Was she really about to ask him about this? “I-I meant how it happened?”

The silent went silent. _I shouldn’t have asked_ , she thought. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it is okay. May I ask why?”

She took a deep breath. “None of the other omnics float.”

“Ah, I see.”

“So, how did it…”

 “I do not know all the details but master told me that a month or so after he left Shambali, he came across a hermit. He joined my master for a brief time. When they crossed the border, the hermit attacked my master. Nepal has severe laws for hate crimes against omnics, Tibet does not. I do not know why but I think he thought my master was an easy target. Zenyatta did not fight back. The hermit crippled my master and left him to die.”

“ _Why_?”

“For parts? Or maybe he did not like mechanical men? The hermit did not give an answer.”

“How did Zenyatta…”

“He never told me but my master did inform me that he came across the hermit again during his travels.”

“And?”

“He forgave him.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta has a bad day.

Basho’s office was cold. It was freezing actually. The candle lights flickered. They sat opposite of each other on plush pillows with golden tassels.

“You wished to speak to me?” Zenyatta asked as Basho poured tea.

“Yes.”

“I have prepared a few notes from my meditation for our master’s service.”

“That will not be necessary.” Basho took one long sip from his cup. “The memorial speech is already written.”

“Ah, I see, then why-“

“Eila has gone through Master Mondatta’s notes and has composed what should be her magnum opus. You will read her speech.”

“Then I am simply to show up?”

“Yes and no. While you will present the speech, we need to clean you up.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“You look homeless.” Basho stated bluntly.

“I was a nomad for some years.”

“Even so, you cannot present yourself as you are for Master Mondatta’s service. You will need to be fixed.”

“I do not see that as necessary.”

“You cannot walk, Zenyatta.”

“Thank you for informing me of this. I was unaware that I could not walk.”

“I see that unlike your leg systems, your sense of humor is still intact.”

“Master Basho, though I am touched by your concern for my well-being, I-“

“My concern isn’t for you, is for Master Mondatta. The service must reflect the omnic that he was, not the haggard beggar that you have become. I have called in the finest healers to fix you.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I do not need to be fixed. I am happy with who I am and what my body looks like.”

“I do not believe you. I do not believe how anyone could be happy if they had your appearance. How can you look at yourself?”

“It is my appearance. It is me. It is my job alone, not anyone else’s, to love myself and I do.”

“How did it happen?” Basho asked with mild interest.

“I met a man on my travels. He was friendly and kind. He was interested in me. I was scared after my banishment. The world seemed cold and scary…I-I didn’t want to be alone. I welcomed his companionship with open arms.” Looking back, it had been foolish to be so easily swayed by the stranger’s sweet words. But the banishment had taken it’s toll on him. “We were together for a while. I was unfamiliar with the terrain so he lead and I followed. We had just crossed the border into Tibet. I…I was excited. I was starting to get my confidence back when um…”

“Yes?”

“I returned with firewood for the camp that night when he attacked me. I never saw it coming. He, uh, hit me from behind. He struck my head with something hard. I don’t remember what but he was on top of me and he tore off my plating. He struck me a few more times. I was disoriented, he hit me hard.” There were gaps between his memories. He could see the fists flying at his face and everything exploding in pain. “I shut off my sensors. I just wanted it to be over…I blacked out. When I woke up, the supports for my legs were gone, my plating was gone, and my clothes were gone.” His memories were fragmented. What little memories he did recall, came back with the force of a bullet train. He remembered the smell of ash from the dying fireplace and the feel of the man’s rough and calloused hands on him. He recalled little flashes of that night. If he sat still long enough, he could remember the man’s scent. He smelled like fresh cut grass and dirt right after it rained.

“Why didn’t you fight back? I’ve seen you fight before. You’ve had no problems killing others when they pose a threat.”

“I was scared. The man kept saying that he would kill me and I believed him.”

“Pathetic. I would have thought that you of all people would have sought violence as a means to an end.”

“I could have killed him. I thought about it. I saw him again in a marketplace. He didn’t recognize me but I remembered him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I forgave him.”

“Oh please!”

“After my attack, I could not function. I was scared of everything. I no longer saw the beauty of the world and I hated that. I was so full of hate and anger, I didn’t want what he did to me to define me.”

“You were a victim.”

“No, I am a survivor. My legs are a reminder that the world is cruel. I will forgive but I will not forget.”

“So you would willfully present yourself as this…mess? In front of everyone? You are rusted out, Zenyatta. You have dents, your-your parts-“ Basho shuddered in disgust, “How could you ever present yourself as a disciple of Master Mondatta when you look as you do? You need to be refined. You must have Master Mondatta’s elegance and eloquence.”

“I am not Master Mondatta.”

“I know.”

Basho’s words cut through Zenyatta like a knife. Zenyatta knew that it was true, he would never be like Master Mondatta but to hear it so cruelly…Basho had meant for it to hurt and it did. Zenyatta thought carefully as a heavy silence hung in the air. He would do anything to make his master proud.

“The healers will be here a few minutes.  I suggest that you prepare yourself.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

 

 

 

The medical room was nothing that Zenyatta remembered it. He remembered fat candles burning brightly and the windows letting in warm summer breezes. When he was younger, the monastery had it’s own monks versed in omnic health but now they had outsourced it. It was cold and sterile.

He never saw the healer’s faces. They wore masks and the heavy suits. Zenyatta couldn’t help but be on edge when he saw them. They filed into the room and said without introduction,

“When was the last time you had an update?”

“Dr. Zeigler found that I was in perfect health.”

“Does Dr. Zeigler specialize in omnic health?”

“She specializes in health.”

“Please remove your clothes.” They commanded in perfect unison.

“Must I?”

“Do it.”

Zenyatta disrobed and sat on the cold metal table in the medical room. Fear crept onto him.

With shaky breath, Zenyatta asked, “Will this hurt?”

“No.”

The healers lied. It hurt like hell. They tore him open, exposing his very being. Their hands dove into his chest cavity. Zenyatta watched fearfully as his core was removed. Everything that made him _him_ was in a single palm sized core.

“Please be careful.”

The healers went on with their work. They ignored Zenyatta’s whines and pleas to be gentle. It was like Zenyatta wasn’t a person. He was a machine that was broken and needed to be fixed. Scratched up faceplate? Get a new one. Old part? Get a new one. Everything can be replaced.

They worked at a frightening pace and ripped his old body frame away until Zenyatta was little more than a basic skeletal for an omnic body. He never felt so vulnerable in his life. He wished Genji was here. Even if he couldn’t speak in his current condition having Genji by him would be a tremendous relief.

“We’re done. Your upgrade is complete.”

They left him in the medical room unable to walk or talk. He was left gasping for air. Everything felt raw. His new body felt strange and much heavier than his old body, Zenyatta struggled to get up. His legs went over the table. Zenyatta hadn’t expected it and went face first to the floor. His body made an ungodly sound. Zenyatta whined as he flipped onto his back. He couldn’t move. His legs twitched. They wanted to move but Zenyatta didn’t know how to make them move. He missed floating. Zenyatta pushed himself on his fours. He reached behind him and grabbed onto the table. He waited until his grip was strong enough before he could pull himself up.

His knees knocked against each other. When he was upright, his legs locked into place. Zenyatta felt himself falling again but backwards. He grabbed onto the table, saving himself. He breathed and tried to find his balance but all he found was wishing that Genji was with him.

Zenyatta turned himself over. He saw a mirror on the opposite end of the room but it wasn’t him looking back in the mirror. Zenyatta had a shorter, squarer chin that was now golden into the classic yellow gold look that he had. His silver faceplate was gone. It had been replaced with a more defined ivory face plate that gave him the illusion of having cheekbones. He still had the same number of lights on his forehead but they didn’t glow as brightly as they once did. It was a softer glow.

He was a shadow of the omnic that was Tekhartha Mondatta.

Zenyatta couldn’t look at himself anymore. He put on the clothes provided for him. Where were his pants? He couldn’t find his pants. All there were robes, the kind that Master Mondatta wore. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. He ran as fast as he could, as best as he could outside. His legs were new and unsteady. He ran outside the temple door. Tracer was in the yard.

“Tracer!”

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him. Zenyatta tripped going down the stairs but she was there to catch him.

“Don’t worry, Mondatta sir, I’ve got you.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could catch herself. “Zenyatta, I…I didn’t mean.”

“I had the same thought.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

They were leaving for King’s Row in the morning. Zenyatta could not stand to be alone and so Tracer stayed with him. His new body caused him nothing but pain. His old systems jarred with the new ones. His memories swarmed and left his mind muddled. Sleep was impossible.

“How are you feeling?” Tracer asked as she wrapped a blanket around him.

“Hmm.” He couldn’t put into words. It was a constant and profound pain. It radiated through every part of his being.

“I’ll stay up with you.”

“I am fine…” He said weakly.

“How are your legs?”

His legs weren’t the problem. It was everything now. He couldn’t quiet his thoughts. He couldn’t meditate. Thoughts of Genji intertwined with Mondatta. Love and regret mixed together into one toxic cloud of thoughts. Zenyatta was out of harmony. Being in sync with the universe, his body, and spirits was a distant memory.

“Hmm.” He moaned.

“It’ll be okay, luv.” Tracer reassured. “You’ll give the speech and then we can go back to the base. Dr. Ziegler will fix you right up.”

The word “fix” scared him. Fixing meant more healers, more pain, more having a foggy mind and feeling ill. “I miss my old body.” He said pitifully. His body may have been dented, rusted, and broken but it was his body. It was the body that he met Genji in, that he fell in love with Genji with, that he joined Overwatch in. The dents were memories and lessons. The rust carried parts of the world from his travels.

“I’m sure Winston could do something. He’s great at this sort of thing.” She tried to remain optimistic but as the hours ticked away and their departure grew closer, doubt began to grow.

 

At three in the morning, Basho, Tracer, and Zenyatta walked down to the small airport. Zenyatta hobbled along, leaning heavily on Tracer. The cold stung his new joints. It aged him and made him feel older than twenty.

“One step at a time, Zenny.” Said Tracer, “No shame in taking it slow.”

Zenyatta hung onto Tracer for dear life. Walking was a struggle. He kept going though. He put one foot in front of the other. He never felt so weak before.

“Thank you for your help.” He whispered. “I can’t imagine doing this alone.”

 

At four in the morning, they arrived at the airport. By this time, Zenyatta could barely move. The trip down the mountains had completely exhausted him. Tracer carried him like he was made out of glass. She had never seen anyone like this before.

“What did you do to him?”

“Excuse me?” Basho stopped walking.

“What did you do to him?” She repeated.

“We merely updated his systems. If you don’t do it often enough, the longer it takes your body to become acclimated. It’s his own fault. He should learn to take better care of himself.”

“He does.” Tracer protested.

“His operating system was nearly a decade old. It is as Master Mondatta would say, “Your body is a temple.” Zenyatta has turned his into a frat house.”

Tracer opened her mouth to argue but a gentle shake of the head from Zenyatta convinced her otherwise.

“He’s not worth it. Please, leave it alone.”

She did but she didn’t like it. Basho was a pain in the ass. Elia was already at the airport when they arrived. She was making the final arrangements. As usual, Elia looked beautiful and professional but then she saw Zenyatta. For her, time slowed down. It was like Mondatta was back.

“Mondatta?” She said tearfully.

“Zenyatta.” He said shamefully. He may have looked like his master but he wasn’t. He could never be like Mondatta.

Elia’s heart was broken instantly into a million pieces. She held back. “You…You look good. Those upgrades really…um, I-I have to go. I need to make a call. Excuse me, please.”

Zenyatta sighed. “I believe that I have upset her greatly.”

“She will get over it.” Basho said. “We need Mond-“ He caught himself. He wasn’t speaking to his master anymore. “Sorry, _you,_ Zenyatta. We need you.”

 “I understand.”

 

They boarded the plane. There were a group of men, seven in total, on the plane. Each wore matching black suits with shiny black shoes.

“Who are you?” Tracer asked.

“Head of security, miss.” The man saluted and his subordinates followed. “My team will be handling this mission.” He stood rigid as though Tracer were his commander.

“If protection was necessary I assure you that Overwatch would be more than capable of handling it.” Said Zenyatta feebly.

“With all due respect sir,” The man saluted to Zenyatta, “, we know that Overwatch is fighting the good fight in Russia. They have their hands full, sir. My team and I will be able to protect you to the best of our abilities, sir! Do or die!” In one fluid motion, each of the men saluted.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm but I hope that there will not be a need for dying.”

“All in the line of duty, sir.” Answered the Head of Security.  

“They worked to protect Mondatta.” Said Elia taking her seat. She was the last to board. “They served him while he was on tour and finally on his last speech.” She cast her sight to the men who had sworn to protect her master. “They were trying to get him out.”

“Ah, I see.”

An air of unease set in. Basho hurriedly had everyone take their seats. The plane took off. They were on their way to England. Zenyatta and Tracer set next to each other while Basho discussed extra security measures. He didn’t think it prudent to involve Tracer or Zenyatta. Elia kept to herself. Occasionally, she would stare at Zenyatta but then she would look away in shame. Zenyatta was drained by the travel.

“Tracer, I’m sorry but I am afraid that I will not be much company today. I need to rest.”

“It’s alright, luv. You get your rest. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“Thank you dear.”

Zenyatta peacefully went into sleepmode. Tracer smiled but worry was deep-seated. The way Zenyatta was acting, he would never be able to give a speech like this. She hoped that maybe the time they spent in the air would give Zenyatta enough time to recover but now she was unsure. Basho’s head of security, a tall white man with dark brown hair, sat down next to her. He didn’t introduce himself. He simply said, “You were on the rooftop.”

He knew. He knew that she was there.

“Will St. North.” He said, extending a hand out to here. “It’s an honor to meet you, miss.”

“Call me Tracer.”

He had a million dollar smile. “Call me Will. I just wanted to say that I’m glad you will be with us. I feel better knowing that an Overwatch agent is on the team.”

“Thanks.” She replied, not feeling too confident about her own skills.

“May I say that your work at the National Overwatch Museum was superb?”

“You may and you have. So, you were there, huh?” She asked, turning the conversation away from her own stellar past.

“Yes, miss. You spoke to me. Told me that there was a shooter on the roof.”

“Oh! That was you.”

“Yes, miss. I want to say thanks for your help.”

“I wasn’t much help.”

“Are you kidding me, miss? I reviewed your actions from eye witness reports, you saved our asses, miss.”

“Tell that to Mondatta.”

“The first priority in evacuation is to not cause a panic. A shooter on the roof gets panicky when it’s target is leaving. They might take their rage our on the crowd. The explosion made all us stop. We shouldn’t have but…we did.” He looked at Zenyatta. “So that’s him, huh? Zenyatta?”

“Yes.” She said quietly.

“I didn’t think that he would look like Mondatta so much.”

“He doesn’t, not normally.”

“I hope he can fix this mess. I had to move my family out of England.”

“You’re from England?” She didn’t hear even a slight accent from him.

“I’m a transplant. Went overseas for work, fell in love.” Will pulled a necklace with a silver ring on it. “It’s been six happy years now.”

“Who’s the lucky girl?”

Will got out his phone and showed off his screensaver. It was of an omnic woman and two human children both boys. “Her name’s Saoirse. She’s from Ireland went to London for work. We met and one thing led to another and now we’ve got two kids. Sean is four and he’s growing like a weed. Fin just turned two and he is a speed demon.” Will flipped through his phone’s photos. Various snapshots of a cozy domestic life. Sean was dressed up for Halloween wearing a familiar set of white and black armor.

“He’s dressed up like Winston!” Tracer exclaimed.

“Yeah, glasses and all.” Said Will. “He’s a huge fan of the good doctor.” He flipped between photos. “And here’s Fin.” Fin was wearing Tracer’s iconic outfit.

“Aw…what a cutie.”

“Isn’t he? Takes after his Mum.”

“He’s adorable.”

“Yep. We had an official adoption ceremony when we got the boys. Mondatta was one of our guests.”

“You knew him outside of work?”

“You protect someone’s life for half a decade, you become close to them. Mondatta actually officiated my wedding.”

“I had no idea. I thought he was all…”

“Religious leader type? No, miss, he was regular guy. You could sit down with him and shoot the breeze.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He had a great sense of humor. You’d never know by looking at him but he was a major goofball.”

Tracer laughed. “No way.”

“Oh, yes way.” A few more flips through his phone revealed the casual person that Mondatta was. It was the kind of photos, the unprofessional photos that the public would never get to see; Mondatta wearing googly-eyed glasses and a fake mustache, Mondatta wearing a pink apron saying “Kiss me, I’m holy”, Mondatta playing with Will’s kids.

“Wow…”

“The kids wondered what happened to him. They know something bad but I don’t know how to tell him that he’s gone.”

“I wish I could have done more.”

“And what? Taken the bullet for him?”

She mused on that thought before Will said, “Mondatta would never want anyone to die for him. The world doesn’t need martyrs, the world needs more heroes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a total breather chapter. Anyway, we're nearing the end. Only five more chapters to go. Please leave a review, kudos, or bookmark to let me know how I'm doing.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who shows up this chapter? I'll give you a hint. She's got a tragic backstory, a french accent, and she assassinated Mondatta.

King’s Row had managed to take a turn for the worse.

Between the tiny and thoughtful memorial sights for Mondatta, the bigotry had come out in full force.

**NO OMNICS**

**HUMAN ONLY**

**TAKE BACK OUR CITY**

Mondatta’s statue was defaced. Someone had taken a welding torch to it. In ugly scars, the words “ **DESERVED IT** ” went down the statue’s body. Tracer couldn’t look away. It was endless. The hate was endless. There was a feeling in the city – no, not a feeling, a sickness. The sickness to want to hate, to fight to the bitter end, to eliminate everything until there was nothing.

Tracer was struck with hopelessness.

There was no way in hell that any speech, no matter how well it was written, could ever fix this. What infected the city, _her city_ , was deep and profound. It ravaged King’s Row, it ruined Russia, and the rest of the world was just as susceptible. And now, as she walked the rooftops of King’s Row, she knew that the memorial service would only incite more violence and hate.

_What are we even doing here?_

“Miss Tracer? How does the view look?” Will’s voice came through from the coms that Basho had so generously provided.

“No sign of suspicious activity.” The crowd for the service slowly started to form. It was nearly show time. Tracer switched the frequency on her com. “How’s Zenyatta?”

Deafening silence.

“Elia? Come in.”

“O-oh! Sorry, I’m so sorry, Tracer. Zenyatta is fine – a little in pain but he’s doing better.”

“Nervous?”

“Is it that obvious?” Elia tried to sound brave. “It feels like last time. I-I don’t like it. Dear Iris, can you feel it?”

“What?”

“The hate. I can feel it in my sensors. It’s everywhere, Tracer. Everything my Master worked for is gone. It’s-It’s horrible. W-When we came here, he thought he could change it. He thought that if he could provide enough patience and love and-and understanding that all of this hate would go away. He thought that he could do it all, Tracer. He really did. If he saw this, if he could see the world….it would kill him. This isn’t what he would want.”

She had a few minutes before Zenyatta was due to make his appearance. Elia needed comfort. “Tell me, what would he want?”

“Oh, Tracer, he wanted…he dreamed of the day that we could walk with you in the light and were unafraid. If you could hear how happy he was when he spoke…I believed him. I completely believed him. When he said that the day was coming, that we could be free from tyranny, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he was right. It was just waiting – waiting for the day. I would have waited with him until the world ended.” Elia went silent for a moment. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“This, Tracer. I can’t, I just can’t. I can’t be by Basho’s side anymore. He’s ruining my Mondatta’s memory. All of this? It’s a mock-up. It’s my Mondatta’s great and final moment. It’s what would have been. He’s so sure that if Mondatta was here, if he was able to give this great speech before he was-“ Elia couldn’t say it. “-Basho thinks it’ll make the world better again. He believes that if this speech can be given, the war in Russia will stop and things will go back to the way they were before everything went to hell.”

“Everyone grieves in their own way.”

“I can’t watch him do this to Mondatta anymore. Tracer, I’m leaving the monastery.”

“When?”

“As soon as this is over. I can’t do this anymore. I-I only stayed for my Master, not for Basho but I can’t do it anymore. I would wake up in the morning and it was like he never gone. Then I would see Basho, strutting about, like he owned the place. It’s killing me.”

“Where will you go?”

“Wander perhaps? I would like to see more of this world before I go.”

When she said wander, Tracer could see every worst case scenario in her mind. Elia being sold for scrap metal, Elia being tortured for her parts, Elia being left for dead in some desolate part of the world. If Zenyatta couldn’t protect himself from violent attacks, how much better would Elia?

“You should come with us.”

“What?”

“Us. Overwatch. We could – it would be best if that, if you want to stay with us. We’re a good bunch. Loads of fun. Mornings are messy but we get through all right. You-You can have your own room and-and everything. You would never have to see Basho again.”

“That sounds nice. Thank you Tracer, for everything. It is comforting to know that there are those still true to my Master’s message.”

Will gave the signal, a tap on his watch. His men, seven in plain clothes, stayed hidden in the crowd while the others stayed at the forefront of the crowd. Will was at the podium. He was tense. No doubt feeling the same as Elia and Tracer. One thought ran through Will’s mind.

_Not again. I will not fail._

Basho was the first to speak at the podium. “Tonight marks the night that we lost Master Tekhartha Mondatta. My Master was not personal with many but those who knew him best are here-“ He glanced to Will and gain strength from knowing he was protected. “-and those who carry his message, you all, are here. The world is a little bit darker now that my Master is gone but if there is anyone who truly represents my Master’s thoughts and ideals, it is Master Tekhartha Zenyatta. Please welcome him with me.”

They applaud for Zenyatta but when they saw him, the dead ringer for Mondatta, they broke into tears. The crowd went wild. For one brief moment, it was like Mondatta had never died. He was standing before them, the glory that was Tekhartha Mondatta, and he was going to give the speech of his life. All they saw was Mondatta. No one saw Zenyatta. They didn’t see the way he struggled to walk, how sluggish and lethargic his movements were. It was like magic the way the people in the crowd could only see a dead man in the place of a live one.

“Human, machine…we are all one within the Iris. Before me, I see the future: humans and Omnics standing together united by compassion by our common hopes and dreams.”

 Tracer was pulled under by the magic too. She could only see Mondatta. Zenyatta ceased to exist. A shadow dashed across Tracer’s line of sight. The spell was broken. Tracer sprang into action. She sped silently through the night. Her feet gracing the rooftops of King’s Row.

“Report in.” Will’s voice whispered in her ear. “Something up?”

Everything was quiet. Nothing was wrong.

“Trick of the light, luv. I’ll keep watch.”

“Reassess-“ Will’s voice cut in and out. “- on – sight –“

“Will? Will come in, Will. Please repeat-“

Another shadow and a sharp kick to her back, brought Tracer to her knees. She heard the soft tapping of heels. A soft sultry chuckle sent shivers down Tracer’s spine.

“Ready for round two, cheri?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I've been having problems uploading chapter recently. It's not the site's fault but my own crappy internet access. That being said, I've set up a Tumblr http://morganknightos.tumblr.com/ and a Twitter https://twitter.com/MorganKnightOS account. Follow me on these sites so you can have access to more Overwatch goodness and teasers to the next chapter every Friday as well as story updates. Again, I'm so sorry about the late updates. I will try to keep updating every Tuesday before 9 a.m. central time zone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for round two?
> 
> By the way, that character death tag? That comes into play in this chapter so....yeah. Have fun.

 

They fought on the rooftops. Tracer ran after Widowmaker but the Talon assassin was faster. Tracer dove and Widowmaker hit her with the butt of her gun. “Is this what Overwatch’s best have come to?”

“What would you know about Overwatch?” Tracer swung her legs, knocking Amelie down. “You betrayed us!” Tracer brought out her guns and fired but Widowmaker back flipped her away out of it. Tracer did everything she could to stop Widowmaker from getting anywhere near Zenyatta.

“Why are you here?”

Widowmaker only laughed. “For fun, cheri. You did not expect me to miss out on this, did you?”

“I won’t let you. I couldn’t save Mondatta but I won’t let you kill Zenyatta!”

Widowmaker flipped down her helmet and smirked. “Good luck with that.” Guns out, Widowmaker made a beeline to her advantage spot but Tracer was close behind. She knocked Widowmaker off the roof but the assassin used it to her advantage. She was after all, a professional. As she fell Widowmaker lined up her shot. She had her target in her sights. Widowmaker aimed. She squeezed the trigger and Tracer realized her mistake too late. The bullet sped straight for Zenyatta but it never reached him. At the last possible second, Will stepped in and took the bullet for him. Will crumpled to the ground. The crowd erupted into screams.

“Sir, p-p-please, get to saf-safety!” Will applied pressure to his profusely bleeding wound.

His request was an exercise of futility. Zenyatta had never abandoned anyone before and he wasn’t going to start now.

“Embrace tranquility…”

Zenyatta stayed out in the open, completely vulnerable, to save Will’s life. Widowmaker frowned. She hadn’t met to shoot the bodyguard but was one more life? Now that she thought about it, those other bodyguards would be problematic too. In rapid fire succession, all headshots, Widowmaker killed every single one of Zenyatta’s bodyguards excluding Will. He would die on his own. All that was left was to kill the omnic. Tracer jumped down and brought her leg down on Widowmaker’s shoulder – successfully dislocating it.

“Please, don’t make me hurt you.” Tracer pleaded. “Stop this now.”

Widowmaker fired. Tracer barely had enough time to avoid getting shot. She dove out of the way and had to keep running. Widowmaker kept her eyes peeled for the fastest woman alive. She popped her shoulder back into place.

“You’re ruining my record.”

“Record? You killed Mondatta and-“

“Of course, I killed him. I am an assassin. It is what I do.” She viewed the city in pandemonium and smiled. “Ah, King’s Row; one of my finest kill sites. It is hard to outdo perfection, cheri but I plan to do it tonight.”

Enraged, Tracer tackled her. How could this person be Amelie Lacroix? The Amelie that she knew would never have done this. The Amelie that lived in the base with them was a sweetheart who always had a kind word to say. The two agents fought over the gun. Between the kicking and the punching, and the blind fury that Tracer experienced the gun went off. Tracer had been shot right in her core.

Stunned, Tracer struggled to comprehend what had just happened. Widowmaker leaned in. Tracer gasped for air. Every move was deliberate and slow. Tracer moaned. Widowmaker grinned. “Is that all, cheri?” Tracer collapsed. She could feel it again – that awful feeling of being everywhere and nowhere. Her body was coming undone at the cellular level.

 

“What a shame.” She pressed harder. “I expected more from you.”

“Amelie!” She choked out. “Please!”

If only for a fleeting moment did the assassin’s true name bring forth any sort of emotion. Amelie was still alive. She was aware of what she was doing. But Talon had ways of keeping her under control. Her heart was slowed down and Widowmaker was back.

“The name is Widowmaker.” She stomped down on Tracer’s chest. “Do not forget it.”

“The cavalry’s here!” Winston roared. Widowmaker jumped back and fired at Winston but in his primal rage state he was invincible. “DON’T!” He swung at her. She moved away. “YOU!” Bombs were useless against him. “HURT!” Winston charged at Widowmaker. “HER!” Winston grabbed her by her leg and swung her around and into the ground like she was a ragdoll. The infamous Talon assassin was out cold. Winston recovered from his primal rage

 “W-W-Winston!” Tracer whimpered. She flickered in and out like a dying light. “H-Help.”

“Lena!” Panic surged through him. “Oh! Lena!”

“Help.”

“Yes! Help, I-I’ll help – just-just stay still. You’re going to be okay. The others are on their way-”

“No!” She pushed his hands away. “Zenyatta! Widowmaker…Help.”

“She’s down, Lena. She won’t hurt any-“

A single gunshot rang out.

A sinking feeling was felt by all. Winston left Tracer’s side only for a moment. He looked over the panicking city and saw lying in stage was Zenyatta with a single bullet hole through his chest.

“No…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment to tell me how I'm doing. By the way, I'm having trouble updating To Be Loved so it's update will hopefully be either tomorrow or Thursday.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basho gets hurt, Widowmaker gains a conscience, and Genji has his heart broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's drama, there's character death, there's Widowmaker feels, and Genji angst. What more could you want in a chapter?

It all happened so fast for Basho. The speech was going well. Zenyatta spoke eloquently. He had captivated the audience. Basho was proud to stand beside him. He knew that if Master Mondatta could see this, that he would be proud of how the mission was going. There were still level headed minds even in a hell hole like King’s Row. Cooler head could and would prevail. Omnics would live to see the day were they weren’t considered an abomination. And then just as everything was going so well, there was shot. Basho never saw it happened. All he saw was Will on the ground and bleeding.

Humans could bleed so much and so fast.

Zenyatta sprang into action. He healed Will. He stopped the bleeding and worked under the pressure like it was nothing but Basho? He ran. It was too much like being back in Russia during the crisis. All the screaming, the shouting, the blood. So much blood. He hated blood. People shouldn’t bleed. Their insides should stay exactly where they were – on the inside. Basho took to the streets. He had to get away. He couldn’t watch Will bleed to death. The crowd became wild and devolved into a mob. People were fighting and clawing their way to escape the death that rained from above.

“OUT OF THE WAY!” A passerby who didn’t want to die shoved Basho to the ground. The mob was a stampede that had no problem for stepping on a monk. The mob trampled him. They broke his body. They didn’t hear his screams. They just wanted to live. As Basho laid ruined in the street, he thought back to Russia. Despite everything, it was his home. It was where he was built and where he was activated. He remembered the first time his sensors came online. He was able to see the world and it was a beautiful. His creators had given him a name, a job, and even a place to live.

And then the Omnic Crisis happened.

Everything he had ever known was torn asunder. Russia was a mad free for all. Humans and omnics were killing each other.

He hated Zenyatta. He hated the way he saw the world. He hated that he knew nothing of the world or how it truly was. He envied his innocence. Zenyatta was everything that he could have been. Zenyatta was everything that Basho wished he still was. He was glad when was Zenyatta was banished but he hated what it did to Mondatta.

“Master? Master, please.” He recalled begging one cold winter’s evening. “We need to review the tour schedule for the spring.”

Mondatta didn’t answer. He stared out the window, almost dead to the world.

“Master?”

He jolted. “Sorry.” Mondatta pulled himself away from the window. “It is cold tonight.”

“I will turn up the heat, master.”

“Where do you think he is?” Mondatta asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

No need to ask who he was. It was Zenyatta. It was always Zenyatta.

“I-I do not know, Master.”

“I…I should not have banished him. It is too cold for anyone to be out.”

“Master, please. Zenyatta…he-“

“-He is but a child compared to the likes of you and I. He does not know the world as I have seen it. He does not, he can not-“

“Zenyatta killed people.”

“I know but…Zenyatta.” Mondatta sighed. “You were not the one to find him. He was wandering the streets alone. He did not know where he was or who he was. He was lost. I promised him when I found him, that I would protect him. I have failed him.”

That conversation seemed like a lifetime ago. Who was he kidding? It was a lifetime ago. And now he was dying. Thundering footsteps, sounding like a stampede were in his direction. Basho weakly looked up. He saw a giant. Malfunction sensors be damned, he knew what he saw was true. There was a giant in England. If he stepped on him, that was it. He would be crushed.

“P-Please, please don’t kill me.” Basho begged.

“Nonsense, friend!” The towering giant roared. “I will be your shield!”

The street burst into fire. Anti-omnics had taken to the streets with Molotov cocktails. Reinhardt brought up his shield. For the first time in his life, Basho witnessed the power of Overwatch. Across King’s row, rousing victory cries could be heard.

“It’s high noon!”

“Let’s drop the beat!”

“Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!”

McCree, Lucio, and Hanzo joined the chaos as Talon agents came onto the scene. “It appears we’ve stumbled upon a Talon operation.” Hanzo drew his bow.

“We can take them!” said a confident Lucio, “Ain’t no one is getting hurt in this part of town.”

“Alright, fellas, let’s do this. Winston? What are our orders?”

Up on the rooftops, Winston could not reply. His mind was focused on saving Tracer whose body was phasing out of the current time stream. Only a few feet away, laid Widowmaker. Memories flitted through. The smell of his cologne, the way he kissed her on her neck…she was Amelie Lacroix. And she was still alive. Talon’s mind broken wasn’t broken but it was cracked and that was all that Amelie needed. She had always been a strong person. Even when Talon tortured her, she had been tough to break. Widowmaker may have been her new dominant mindset but with this tiny crack in her psyche, Amelie Lacroix was going to claw her way back on top. She remembered who she was and she was never going to forget again. Everything was still murky but she remembered Overwatch. She recalled the familiar faces of agents. Amelie knew that Tracer having her chest opened was bad and if Winston was working it then also bad.

It was very bad all around.

She stood up, her body still reeling from Winston’s ruthless assault, and went to work. She was still an assassin. Jumping onto Winston’s back she jumped off and tackled the Talon agent. She fired below, taking out the Talon agents that threatened McCree, Hanzo, and Lucio. McCree lifted his hat and shot

“Winston! You didn’t tell us that she was here!” McCree shouted.

“I’m a bit busy at the moment!”

“Reinhardt, there are six talon agents on your left. Frog boy-“

“Name’s Lucio.”

“Lucio, three behind you, dressed as civilians.”

“Shimada, you targets are north and southwest of you, precisely two hundred feet away.”

“Noted.” Hanzo spotted more Talon agents on the roofs but no sign of his brother, Genji. Genji had been at the lead. Where was he?  “There are five snipers. Can you handle them?”

“But of course.” She flipped her helmet down. “I am Amelie.”

 

Genji raced across the rooftops of King’s Row. He didn’t stop for the Talon agents, he didn’t stop for the crowds, or anyone. He knew that the team could handle Talon. They were experts. What Genji was focused on finding was his master. He had heard gunfire and he feared the worst. He reached the theater and saw no one. Blood was splattered on the floor. Genji cautiously entered the theater. There was a single omnic inside.

“Master!”

The omnic screamed. “I-I’m not your master.”

Upon further inspection, this omnic was female. In the dark, she appeared to look like Zenyatta. “Wh-Who are you?”

“Genji Shimada.”

“Oh! Oh dear Iris. Y-You-You’re Genji. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry but Zenyatta, he’s-he’s-I’m so sorry.”

“What do you mean?”

Elia pointed silently to the backdoor out of the theater. There was a trail of blood. He followed the blood and found Zenyatta. There he was – lying in the garbage like he was nothing with a man in a slick black suit opening his master’s chest cavity and tearing him open. Rage took over. Without thinking, Genji hand his sword to the man’s neck.

“Unhand my master.”

“I’m trying to save him.” The man said. “His core is severely damaged.”

“Gei-Ge-NNNN-jijijiji.” Zenyatta’s voice skipped and cracked.

“Sir, please don’t speak.” Will begged. “Save your strength.”

But it was too late. The bullet had shattered Zenyatta’s plating and destroyed his core. Unregulated and wild, his core burned. It ate away at his body, burning him alive from the inside out. His systems crashed. Will attempted to salvage what was left but as every second passed, a new system was destroyed. Genji held his master close as Will tried to save the core. It didn’t matter if everything else failed – bodies could be fixed, wounds could be healed but if the core fried then it was all gone. Everything that made Zenyatta Zenyatta was safely stored in a palm sized core. The core, too hot to hold, continued to burn and eat away at Zenyatta. Will looked on hopelessly. He knew some medical know-how for omnics but this was too advanced. The core was going to burn itself and Zenyatta out.

“I-I can’t stop this. We need a medic.”

“He is our medic.”

“G-En-Ji-Ji-Ji…” Zenyatta wanted Genji. His sight was gone. He couldn’t hear anymore. All systems were shutting down but he just wanted Genji. He didn’t want to die alone.

“I’m here, Master!” He held Zenyatta tighter but Zenyatta couldn’t feel it. His sensors were the first major system to go in a desperate attempt to save the core from self-destruction. “Master, I’m here.”

At this point, Zenyatta was little more than a broken doll. His limbs were useless, his sight was gone, and the only thing that was left was his mind. Every synapse was on fire. In the blink of an eye, Zenyatta’s own core erased himself. Gone were his memories of Mondatta, of the monastery, of his precious Genji. Everything was gone.

Tekhartha Zenyatta died in a back alley among the trash.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short but meaningful chapter. I hope everyone had a safe and happy Halloween.

“Are the handcuffs really necessary?” Lena said, staring at Widowmaker currently imprisoned.

“She is a Talon agent, Lena.” Whispered Winston. “She can’t be trusted.”

“She saved our lives.”

Winston conceded this point but what to do with Widowmaker? They knew what she could do. Her name was synonymous with deadly. As much as Winston wanted to believe that she had turned a new leaf, he couldn’t allow his idealism to cloud his mind. It wouldn’t be the first time that Talon sent a sleeper agent into their midst. The risk was too great to blindly trust her.

“I’m sorry, Lena. We can’t do this.”

“I know but…”

They were in the brig of the plane. Glass separated Widowmaker and them. Lena had wanted to see her. Winston wanted to keep an eye on Lena. “How’s your breathing? Everything feel alright?”

“It doesn’t feel like I have a huge gaping hole in my chest anymore.”

“That’s good to hear.” Winston tried to sound happy but it was difficult. This mission had been a complete and total disaster. Zenyatta dead, civilians dead, and King’s Row had descended into anarchy. It had been Hanzo who had found his brother and Will in the alley. Will was whisked away by Lucio to receive medical attention. Genji was cradling Zenyatta’s corpse. He had refused to leave his master’s side. It took Hanzo to persuade him to leave.

“Brother.” Hanzo cautiously approached his younger sibling. He wasn’t afraid of Genji but he knew that people did stupid and rash things when they experienced a sudden loss. Members of his family had a tendency to react badly when in grief. Genji’s cyborg body was a testament to his family’s ill temperament. Genji held Zenyatta tighter as though he was afraid that Zenyatta might be torn away from him at any moment. Genji sniffled and his voice broke, “I can’t leave him, Hanzo.”

“I know.” He knelt beside his brother. “I do not blame you. It is difficult to lose a loved one.”

Tears streaked down Genji’s face. Hanzo experienced pure agony. His brother was in pain and there were no words for Hanzo to speak to bring him comfort or peace.

“Genji, please, let us leave this place.”

“Not without Zenyatta. I left him once, I will not leave him again.”

“Of course. We do not leave family members behind.” Hanzo roused his brother. “Zenyatta is as much as a Shimada as you or I. We should honor him as such.”

That felt like a lifetime ago. Now Genji had stowed away in the medical bay with Zenyatta’s body and could not be moved. Will returned from the medical bridge. He shared a quick smile with Tracer before asking McCree and Reinhardt, “What are you going to do with her?” He jerked his head in Widowmaker’s direction.

“She’ll be brought back to base. Where she will receive punishment for her crimes.”

“After you’re done, I want a swing at her. She killed my men. I have children who don’t have fathers anymore and I have to inform the family. I want to make sure that her punishment fits the crime.”

“I’ll talk to my commander about it.”

“Overwatch is still in the business of making of making deals, no?” Widowmaker spoke.

An uneasy air set in. McCree took a long drag of his cigar and sighed. “It depends on what you have to give.”

“You can’t be serious!” Shouted Will. “She killed Zenyatta! And killed my men! You can’t be considering making her a deal. She’s vicious!”

“It all depends.” McCree said with an air of finality. “This is Overwatch business, partner. It’s out of your league.”

“What do you have to offer?” Winston asked.

“The name of the omnic who hired me.”

“This was not a Talon operation?” Said Reinhardt, uneasy. Talon was enough trouble on their own. To have more competition on the board was a frightening aspect.

“We accomplished what we wanted with Mondatta. Zenyatta was an independent operation.”

“Who?”

“What will I get in return?”

“I promise not to squish you like the bug that you are.” Swore Reinhardt.

“I have a better offer.” Piped up Lena. “We’ll help you. You don’t want to be like this forever do you?”

Widowmaker’s sudden change in personality was brief but poignant. It signaled the first sign that Amelie Lacroix might still be alive under the cold assassin exterior. However, Widowmaker was back in control. Amelie was buried was once more but she was waiting. She had waited years for her chance at freedom and she could wait again. It was only a matter of time. Lena stared deep into Widowmaker’s eyes and saw, if only for a moment, a glimmer of the woman she used to be.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Lena grinned.

“I can’t believe you guys are doing this!” Exclaimed Will. “She’s an assassin!”

“And I’m a former arms’ dealer.” McCree said sharply, ending the conversation. “Whaddya have Widowmaker?”

“Taped conversations of our discussion to assassinate Zenyatta.”

“Where are the tapes?” Asked Winston.

Widowmaker nodded towards her helmet. “It does more than scope. There is a button on the back.” Winston cautiously held the helmet. “Do not worry. It is only dangerous in my hands.”  
Static filled the room before cutting into part of a conversation.

“Are you sure that you would like to do this?” Widowmaker’s voice. “There is no going back.”

“I want Zenyatta dead.”

It was Eila’s voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review to let me know how I’m doing and also follow me on Twitter (https://twitter.com/MorganKnightOS) for updates and Tumblr for more Overwatch goodness (http://morganknightos.tumblr.com/)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta experiences peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are: the last chapter. I would just like to say thank you to everyone. The support has been amazing and it’s been wonderful to write this story for you all. I would also like to say that on December 20th, I will plan to release the first chapter of a new story focusing on Gabe and Jack, detailing the trials and tribulations of adopting and raising an eight year-old Jesse McCree. I highly encourage you to read it. Thank you once again for reading “Successor”.

Death was strange.

Zenyatta had often pondered what it was like to experience death. He read scrolls and personal testimonies on those who had reached the brink of death and had miraculously come back. What he found scared him.

 _I feel like I left something back on the other side_ , spoke one woman who suffered a near fatal heart-attack, _I don’t feel whole_.

 _You feel weightless_ , said one man who survived a horrific car crash, _like nothing could ever weigh you down._

 _I saw the light_ , said an elderly man who had momentarily died on an operating table, _it was the most beautiful thing. I wish I hadn’t come back._

 The testimonies did not provide any clarity to the matter of dying. As an omnic, many believed that his kind were without souls. When they died, all that were left of their lives were their shells. Zenyatta disagreed with that mindset. He had no proof that he had a soul but he felt it when he experienced certain things. When he saw Genji smiling at him, a switch flipped inside of him and he knew happiness. When his teammates were injured on the battlefield, he felt rage and the deep desire to protect them from the harms that came with missions. When he received word that his master had passed, Zenyatta knew the pain and grief. It ate at him and filled him with regret.

Surely, to experience and know those feelings whether they were good or bad, was to have a soul.

To have a bullet tear through his core was to experience death.

It stunned him at first, the bullet striking him. It was shocking to say the least. He remembered falling back and trying to think but he couldn’t. His mind was a complete and utter blank. Will, who was still bleeding, took him away from the frenzy and did his best to repair him. The damage was too great. He was dying. In an instant, Zenyatta reviewed every piece of literature he had ever read about death and dying. He found no comfort in the reviews that death was painless, that you went quietly and quickly into the great beyond. As he died, Zenyatta did not want to read how to accept death or how wonderful the afterlife was, he wanted Genji.

That was all he ever wanted.

What he wouldn’t give to be held by Genji one last time and to know that he was loved and that Genji knew how deep and profound his love for him was. He never thought he could ever love anyone quite like Genji but how wonderfully he had proven him wrong. Zenyatta could never imagine life without Genji but Genji would have to imagine life without him. During his final moments, Zenyatta never knew that Genji held him, wept for him, and begged him not to go.

Zenyatta lost consciousness. Everything around him faded into black and he was numb. The loss of feeling scared him the most. This couldn’t be the glorious Iris that he had been taught so much about. This wasn’t anything he had learned. Was the afterlife the cessation of existence? Was this all there was?

Zenyatta was deep in the void.

Fear crept over and suffocated him. This couldn’t be the end. He knew the Iris and the warmth of the light. Zenyatta attempted to experience tranquility but couldn’t. He was hopelessly out of sync with the universe. He couldn’t focus to save his life.

“Breathe…” He tried to command himself. “Breathe. Just breathe….”

Controlling his breathing was as hard and as frustrating as it was the first time Master Mondatta attempted to show him.

“It cannot be commanded.” Mondatta told him that warm spring day. “You must relax, let everything fall away and breathe.”

“I am.” Was his stubborn reply.

How had he learned to breathe in the first place? He couldn’t remember. Breathing was something he had always been able to do. It didn’t matter if he didn’t have lungs or not, it was just something he could always do. A monk worth his salt could breathe.

So what did that say about him now?

That he wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t live up to his Master’s name, he couldn’t protect anyone, he couldn’t keep tension peaceful…Zenyatta sank into despair. How far he had strayed from the path that his Master had set for him. His entire existence had gone awry and now this was what he deserved; to float endlessly in the emptiness of the void.

Blinded by his depression, Zenyatta was unable to see the golden light that surrounded him. He was so caught up in his preconceived failures that he did not see the Iris welcome him to the true afterlife. The warm golden glow of the Iris swallowed him whole but he was still in the dark. Settled in the afterlife of the Iris, Zenyatta sat and wondered how far gone he was. It was not until a figure, dressed in shining golden robes, sat down beside him and put a gentle hand on his back.

“Be at peace, Master Zenyatta.”

Hearing that soft inviting voice was like seeing color for the first time. The world came spinning into view. Zenyatta looked at the omnic beside him.

“Master?” He was left breathless.

“Zenyatta!” Mondatta chuckled. He brought his student into a hug. “It is wonderful to see you again.”

But the sweet reunion was tempered by the bitterness that Zenyatta had died. His hug became a little tighter. Mondatta tried not to think of all the horrible ways that death could have come to his student. The world was a harsh and unforgiving place. Any number of things could have done Zenyatta in and Mondatta worried greatly about it.

Zenyatta, still reeling in shock, could form a sentence. He melted into Mondatta’s embrace.

 

Genji Shimada was broken once more.

His pain this time came not from his brother’s sword or his spirit from adjusting to his new form, it came from the sudden and painful loss of his master. Genji and the Overwatch team were home once more at the Gibraltar base. The tension and loss of a teammate made any conversation unbearable. Each member was dealing in their own grief in their own way. Reinhardt stricken from any glimmer of hope. His eyes were cold and hard. In his mind he reviewed every single step of the mission. He kept thinking of the what if’s.

What if he was faster?

What if he had done more to save civilians?

What if, what if, what if?

Reinhardt was slowly driving himself insane thinking about the what ifs. Lena and Winston dealt with their grief differently. Then there was Lucio. He had seen violence and death. It was not new to him but the loss of a teammate weighed heavy on the junior member. Hands shaky but his music pumped up, Lucio sought comfort with the youngest member of the Overwatch team, Hana. He went to her room and knocked. She welcomed him with open arms. Wordlessly, he joined her on the floor of her bedroom. She had her console set up, the latest first person shooter game was running. They didn’t speak. They took solace in each other’s company and that was enough for him.

On the roofs of the base was Genji. He was trying to breathe. As a child, meditation was a daily practice with his brother and their family. He could do it in the blink of an eye and find peace but now? He felt nothing. He heard the pitter-patter of feet running up the wall. Genji sighed.

“Brother, I wish to be alone.”

“I too wish to be alone but my brother needs me.” He settled next to Genji. Neither brother said anything. They watched the sun go down together.

 

McCree chose to throw himself into his work than actually think on his grief. It was a habit he picked up from Gabe. There were six bodies in the medical bay. One was Zenyatta the other five? All identical copies of Widowmaker. All dead with one single bullet to the head.

“What do you make of it, boss?”

Jack Morrison shook his head at the inexplicable sight of five Widowmakers. “I can’t.”

“I can.” Said Mercy, looking up momentarily from her clipboard. “They’re all clones.”

“Clones?” Jack could feel a mingraine starting to develop. There was nothing on their intelligence files that even began to hint that Talon has access to cloning techonology.

“Each a perfect genetic copy of the original. Can you imagine it? Six Widowmakers?”

“Six Reapers.” Jack grimly realized.

“Perhaps. These clones are recent –maybe a year old but their bodies have been aged significantly. If it’s any consolation, we’ve set them back at least three years.”

“It would be more of a consolation if we could shut them down.” Sighed Jack. “Is there any way that you can track where they might be operating from the bodies?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Ang.”

 

In the prison section of the Overwatch base, Winston preformed the necessary repairs to Lena’s chronal accelerator. Lena was stony faced. Her fingers were buried on the cold steel seat of the prison. The chronal accelerator was a beautiful piece of machinery but needed a constant tune-up every time it suffered damage. It couldn’t be avoided. Lena was used to having her chest opened and the very fabric of her being, being tampered with. It was only with Winston that she felt comfortable opening her up. Every so often, she would look beyond the protective glass wall at Overwatch’s latest prisoner of war: Amelie Lacroix. What could possibly be going through the woman’s mind?

She had fought with them, she had protected then, she killed for them, and she went with them willfully. It was impossible to understand. Winston finished up the last touches of repair. Lena’s chronal accelerator glowed a cold blue light.

“You’re done.”

“Hmm…”

They left the prison together.

“I don’t understand.” Lena said. “Eila of all people.”

“I know.”

“He was her friend.”

“I know.”

“How could she just-“ She ended up punching the wall.

“Lena!”

“Why is everyone heartless?” She nursed her hand.

“So what do you want to do?”

“I want to talk to her.”

 

 

It was in the gardens of the monastery that Elia prayed for the final time. She was at peace with herself and her actions. It came to no surprise to her when the Overwatch team came to her. “Master Eila? We need to speak to you.” McCree said.

She stopped praying and rose to her feet. “I see that you know.” She turned and saw the grim faces of McCree, Genji, Hanzo, and Tracer. Elia sighed. “Are you surprised?”

“Why?” Genji choked out.

“Would any answer I give you bring any peace? My reasons are my own.”

“He was your friend. How could you do that to him?”

“Have you ever been in love?” Elia asked. “Because I have. Master Mondatta was everything. He was the movement. He was the light. He was my first love. How do you think I felt when I saw Basho and the Order destroy his memory? They never wanted Zenyatta. They wanted Mondatta and they did everything they could do to smear his good name but I protected it. Zenyatta had to die. They planned from the very fucking beginning to doll Zenyatta up, have him wear my Master’s clothes, speak in my Master’s voice, and have my Master’s presence! They wanted someone to become the next Master Mondatta! They wanted someone to carry on his name, his legacy when all they have managed to do is drag it through the mud. I don’t regret killing Zenyatta. It had to be done. My only regret is that I couldn’t pull the trigger myself.”

“Master Eila of the Shambali Order, you are under arrest for conspiracy to murder and assassination.”

“No, I’m not.” Without warning, Eila ripped out her core. “I’m going to join Mondatta now.”

Her core went into meltdown. Her body glowed as it was unable to regulate itself anymore.

“Goodbye.”

“Go for cover!” McCree shouted.

The Overwatch team ducked for cover as the core exploded. All that was left of Elia was a smoldering hole in the ground.

“I can’t believe it.” Lena said. She was the first to get up. “I can’t believe it.”

“Did you know she was ready to explode?” McCree asked, getting up and dusting himself off.

“N-No. I never, I didn’t…I had no idea she was so disturb.”

“My Master did not deserve to suffer from her wrath.”

 

In the afterlife of the Iris, Zenyatta stayed close to Master Mondatta’s side. Wherever Mondatta went, Zenyatta went. He clung to his Master but felt ashamed for doing so. He didn’t deserve this, any of this. Master Mondatta was too kind, too nice to him. How could he ever be in his master’s presence when he had failed so spectacularly in life?

“You are quiet, Zenyatta.” Mondatta observed. “Is something wrong?”

Everything was wrong. The Iris was glorious, Master Mondatta was as kind and as lovingly as he had been when he was alive, and it was all perfect. Everything was just perfect and that was what made it wrong.

“I do not deserve to be here.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Mondatta reached out to his student but Zenyatta recoiled.

“I failed you, Master!” Zenyatta exclaimed. “I-I tried to follow your path, truly, I did but…” He hung his head in shame. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything right. I am sorry that I have failed you, Master.”

“In what way have you failed me?”

“I could not quell the war in Russia, I could not successfully spread your message, I could not emulate your presence, I could not….I could not….” Why was it so hard to speak suddenly? “I have killed people, Master. I have gone so far from your path.”

“Okay.”

 _Okay_. That was what he said. Out of all the words in the world, Mondatta said okay like it was _okay_.

“Master!” Zenyatta sighed exasperatedly.

“What? Zenyatta, you might have strayed from my path but you haven’t strayed from yours.”

“I don’t understand, Master.”

“Who are you?”

“Zenyatta.” He answered.

“And who am I?”

“Master.”

Mondatta laughed lightly. “I was looking for Mondatta but yes, that works too. Zenyatta, my path is my own. It is for no one else to follow just as your path is yours. Would you rather be someone else other you?”

“No… but Master, I-“

“What?”

Zenyatta thought very hard to form an argument against his master’s logic. “I killed people.”

“To protect others.”

“I couldn’t stop the war.”

“You are not an army.”

“I couldn’t emulate your presence.”

“You’re not me.”

“I couldn’t spread your message!”

“You died! Zenyatta, you are not me. I am me. You are you and I would never want you to be anyone else.”

“Master, I…I wanted to make you-“

“Proud? Zenyatta I might not agree with some of your methods but you are following your own path and I could not be prouder of you if you tried. That is why it saddens me that you are here. What happened was not on your path. My dearest Zenyatta, you need to return to your path.”

“R-Return?” Zenyatta trembled. “I-I can go back?”

“If you wish. It is up to you.”

“I do!”

Mondatta chuckled. “I’m glad we had this talk. Goodbye Zenyatta, I hope that I do not see you again for a very long time.”

 

Resurrection was quite the experience. This was due to the fact that when his sensors came online, he was in the dark. Zenyatta tried raising his hands only to find that he was in a small enclosed area. He brought his arms close and pushed up. Zenyatta wiggled. He didn’t have much room to move. He raised his leg as high as it could go in the space and gave a kick. Something gave way. He kicked again and again until finally a tiny door opened.

Success!

Zenyatta flipped himself over with some difficulty and wiggled out of the tiny space. It was hard but he escaped. And then he realized that he was in the morgue. He gasped. He placed his hand over his chest. Why was he here? His chest was fine! His core was in perfect working order.

Oh yeah, he had been dead.

Zenyatta had to rest. He was out of harmony. He didn’t belong here in the morgue. Dead people belonged in the morgue. Zenyatta stood up, his legs shakily obeying, and left. Everything was quiet. The Overwatch symbol greeted him warmly as he wandered the halls. The base seemed so different at night. He didn’t recognize anything. Zenyatta aimlessly walked the halls and eventually found himself in the kitchen. It was midnight. It was comforting to be in the kitchen. He knew where everything was here but where was he going to go?

Genji.

Genji was where he needed to go.

Zenyatta went to Genji’s bedroom. He didn’t know what he would say or do but he knew that he needed to see Genji to prove that this wasn’t all part of some crazy dream. Zenyatta quietly walked and found Genji’s bedroom. He opened the door, there wasn’t a need to knock, but Genji wasn’t there. Was he off on a mission? Zenyatta hoped not. He wanted to see Genji. Dejected, Zenyatta went to his own bedroom. There was no sense in waking everyone up. He would retire to his room, rest, and then when morning came he would handle this. Zenyatta opened his room and saw that Genji was in his bedroom. Genji was lying on his stomach on the mat and gently rolling Zenyatta’s orbs.

“Brother, I wish to be alone.”  

“And I wish to be with you.”

Genji shot up. “Zenyatta?”

He entered the bedroom and shut the door. “Hello Genji.”

Genji tackled Zenyatta and brought him into a bone crushing hug. “Master!”

“Genji!”

There were a flurry of kisses and crying, lots of crying, but who cared?  Zenyatta was back. Genji sighed happily.

“How is this possible?”

“I have returned to my path and to you.”

“Bless the Iris.” Genji murmured as he wrapped his arms around Zenyatta.

“Indeed.” Zenyatta agreed.

They agreed in the morning to talk to the team about Zenyatta miraculous return but for now, what they both needed was each other.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let this be a lesson to everyone to properly label your chapters because this was embarrassing.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny but meaningful chapter.

Amelie Lacroix was confined to Overwatch’s in-base prison. Every move was monitored. She was never left without supervision. The assassin spent most of her days pacing in her cell. She hardly ever spoke and when she did it was when someone spoke to her first. Amelie’s first days in the prison consisted of testing. Her injuries were healing up nicely but it was her mental state that was the sole focus. She was a medical marvel. The Widowmaker side of her was pleased that she continued to confound Overwatch’s scientists but the Amelie side was dying. She held her end of the deal. She needed relief. She poured her soul out and told them everything she knew about Talon’s operations, their methods, and more importantly how she shot Zenyatta while she was lying unconscious in different section in King’s Row.

“Clones.”

“Talon went ahead and whipped up a bunch of you?” McCree asked.

“It is true.” She remained steadfast. “After Winston initiated the recall, Talon realized that Reaper and I were not enough. Cloning came as the easiest option. We were to fight fire with fire. Talon wished to create their own Overwatch team and to have that team loyal to Talon’s vision.”

“How many are there?” Jack inquired.

“Of me?”

“Everyone.”

“I cannot say for sure. There are five more clones of me but I killed them. It was clone 3-7-2 that shot Zenyatta. Clones of Reaper are unstable. Because of his current state, no clones have survived. They cannot maintain his form for long before they die. Clones Winston and Tracer have proven to be impossible too. As are most of the Overwatch team. The cloning process is still in it’s infancy.”

“But they created more of you.”

“I wish I could say that I am one of a kind but my mental state made it easy to create copies.”

“Is there anyone else?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Is there anyone else who would know?” Asked McCree.

“There is a new recruit. I do not know her well.”

“Name?”

“Sombra. She is a hacker of highest quality. For fun, she enjoys hacking into Talon’s systems and seeing what they are up to.” She answered honestly. “She knows about everyone. There is no such thing as privacy where Sombra is concerned.”

“A master hacker that’s great.” McCree groaned.

“We’ll handle it.” Jack reaffirmed.

“May I please go to therapy now?” She politely asked.

Jack nodded. “Bring him in.”

McCree and Jack left. Amelie’s therapist was on the other side of the glass. He bowed to her and said, “I must admit my interest was piqued when you requested me.”

Widowmaker said nothing.

“I understand that you have suffered trauma both mental and physical. I would like to help you with that if possible. Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes, Master Zenyatta.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan-fic in the Overwatch fandom, so I apologizes ahead of time if everyone doesn't sound on point. Updates every Tuesday. Check out my Tumblr: morganknightos for more of my work


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